


Preventing a repeat of fate

by Ravenof_flame



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arthur needs some lessons in parenting too, Brotherly Love, F/M, Harry Has Issues, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Incest, Kind of manipulative Dumbledore, Luna is awesome, Mental Health Issues, Morgana has issues, Morgana's A+ parenting, Really the only Cemi-good parent here is Lot, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 86,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21692290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenof_flame/pseuds/Ravenof_flame
Summary: Voldemort is back. The ministry is in denial. The last thing Harry needs is something else to worry about. So of course he would begin to have strange dreams.Who are all these people, whom seem so familiar to him? An old man who gives him the creeps. Four men who would die for him just as surely as he would for any of them. A haunting yet beautiful song sang by an equally beautiful yet dark woman. And a girl...Everything is not as it seems. Will Harry be able to decipher the meaning behind his dreams? And once he does, will he be able to stop the events from happening again? Or is he doomed to a repeat of fait?
Relationships: Arthur pendragon and mordred, Lot/Morgana, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 68





	1. The last surviver

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything. Everything you see hear belongs to their respective owners.

Chapter 1:  
Warmth. That was what he felt. As if he were cocooned in the warmest blankets. Gentle arms rocked him, lovingly, as if he were the finest jewel.  
He could see images flash before his eyes. Of a small room made of dark wood. Of light pouring through a window. The blerred image of the person rocking him.  
Everything was calm. Everything was peaceful.  
Suddenly, the peace was broken. There was yelling, the flash of metal in the sunlight.  
The scene changed.  
He was now being jostled about. The person who was caring him was attempting to be as gentle as possible. He looked up to see their face was covered by a hood. However, it did feel as if this was the same person as whom was rocking him before.  
They were being chased by several distant voices. The hooded figure was fast, but not fast enough.  
Quickly but gently, the hooded figure laid him down in a little nook between two large tree roots. They put a hand on his forehead and chanted something in a strange language. By the sound of their voice, the hooded figure was a woman.  
The woman quickly spoke to him in a hushed tone.  
"Shhh, do not worry child. I will find you again, even if he catches you."  
And with that, she disappeared into the trees.  
The figures who had been chasing them caught up to where he had been hidden. Several heavily armoured men were looking around the area. They were yelling to each other:  
"Where is she!"  
"She's disappeared!"  
"Never mined her! Where is the babe!"  
All of the yelling, combined with his cold hiding hole, was too much for him. He let loose a violent cry.  
Unfortunately, this caught the attention of the men.  
One scrambled down and spotted him amongst the tree roots.  
He was ruffly picked up by the crouching man and carried away.

Once again, the scene changed. He was lying in a gently rocking vessel. All around him were the sounds of other crying infants, just like himself. They all sought to be warm and in their mother's arms. But the only arms which came to welcome them were those of death.  
Gradually, one by one, they all succumbed to the elements. All except for him.  
He remained through day and night. He cried and screamed until his throat was wore and his eyes could no longer produce tears. But still he lived.  
Eventually, he felt the cold arms of death, which had claimed so many young lives, come for him at last. However, the arms which picked him up were not cold, but warm. He looked up to see the face of a dark, beautiful woman. She waded through the shallow water just off the shore. Gently, she carried him to a rock, on which she sat and cradled him.  
"I told you that I would find you." She said gently.  
He recognised her as the woman who had hidden him in the tree roots.  
Gently she rocked him in her arms. Then, she began to sing a beautiful yet haunting song.  
Hush child,  
The darkness will rise from the deep,  
And carry you down into sleep, child,  
The darkness will rise from the deep,  
And, Carry you down into sleep...


	2. Confusing thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to figure out the meaning behind his dream, but only ends up lost in his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Chapter 2:

Harry bolted upright. He blinked once, then twice. With a trembling hand, he reached for his glasses which lay on the desk next to his bed.  
What was that?  
When he closed his eyes he could still see the lingering images from that strange dream. Though many of the details were fading to the point where he could barely picture them, a few still remained as clear as day.  
Who was that woman? And that song?  
Harry shuddered as he thought of it. It somehow both frightened and comforted him. How was that even possible?  
He rubbed his forehead in frustration.  
"Why now?" He muttered under his breath. He longed to scream out in frustration, but he did not wish to accidentally wake the Dursleys. They had already voiced their irritation from being woken up by Harry's nightmares. As if it was his fault he had had nothing but bad dreams lately.  
It had been only a few weeks since the end of term and the return of Voldemort. Ever since then, his days had been haunted by the fear of hearing any strange deaths, in either the magic or muggle worlds. His nights were haunted by his dreams forcing him to repeat the horrible night. The night that Cedric had died and Voldemort had risen from the dead.  
His vision was blurred with unshed tears.  
He should have been quicker. He shouldn't have just stood there stupidly when they had both found themselves in that graveyard. He should have been faster in the maze. Surely if he had grabbed the cup before Cedric, then only he would have been taken to that horrible graveyard. Maybe if he hadn't been such a noble prick and just taken the cup when the Hufflepuff had offered it to him. But no, he had to argue the point with him until they agreed to both grab it.  
Harry scoffed. A Hogwarts victory. The only one who was victorious that night was Voldemort.  
He looked at the digital clock by his bedside. It was only 4 in the morning. He should get more sleep, but he was afraid to. What if his dreams reverted back to the graveyard which had become his regular dreamscape? Or what if he had another dream featuring that strange woman and the song, both of which caused him to feel so many confusing emotions.  
He decided to get up.  
Quietly, so as not to wake his relatives, he crept into the bathroom.  
He splashed cold water from the bathroom sink in his face to clear his mind.  
He looked into the mirror. The face which looked back at him was pale, almost gaunt. Dark circles ringed his emerald eyes. His usually messy hair now more resembled a birds nest which had been cort in a storm than a head of hair.  
He remembered the woman from his dream. Her skin had been fair. Her hair had been as dark as night. He tried to remember her face, but could not quiet picture her exact features.  
But one thing from his dream remained as clear as day. That haunting song.  
What did that mean? And why did it make him feel so... Confused?  
He thought of the lyrics.  
The darkness will rise from the deep,  
And carry you down into sleep...  
The words should frighten him, Harry knew. It sounded like some sort of messed up lullaby. And indeed, a small part of him, probably the rational side of him, was terrified by the song. But another part of him felt... Comfit from the song? Or maybe it was just the woman who was singing it.  
How could a voice which sounded so angelic produce such a dark song?  
He frowned into the mirror.  
While he had wished for a change from the constant reruns of Voldemorts return, this was not quite what he had had in mind. This dream was just as bad, and caused his thoughts to become even more of a jumbled mess than they already were.  
The man who had caused the deaths of so many, including his parents, had risen from the dead. By some miracle he had managed to escape from the mad wizard, again, and had returned to Hogwarts, relatively in one peace.  
He had thought that by warning the Ministry of his return, then they would be able to prepare for when Voldemrrt would inevitably strike in an attempt to finish what he had started almost 14 years ago.  
But no, the ministry accentually plugged their fingers in their ears had screamed:  
"Not listening, not listening..."  
He supposed that it would be a bit hard to believe him. After all, he was only a 14 year old who had faced Voldemort, what, four times now? And the likes of Reata Sketa would have you believe he was mentally unstable. But surely they would believe Dumbledore, who most of the wizarding world seemed to worship as the second coming of Merlin or something.  
He frowned as he thought of the old wizard.  
Sure he had believed him when Harry had told of the happenings in the graveyard. But then he had done what he had always done with Harry at the end of every year. Shipped him right back to Hell... Errr, the Dursleys. Not that there was much of a difference, in Harry's opinion. The only thing that was keeping them tame was the threat of his escaped convict godfather. Harry still hadn't mentioned that Sirius was wrongfully imprisoned.  
He sighed. Sirius hadn't been very forthcoming with information concerning the happenings of the magical world, or what they knew concerning the movements of Voldemort. None of his friends were. No doubt thanks to Dumbledore.  
Harry chuckled.  
Maybe he was mentally unstable. But if he was, he could definitely find the reasons for it.  
First year, he and his friends went past several obstacles, ending with Ron getting nocked out cold and him facing Voldemort who had been living off of the back of one of his teacher's head for the past school year. All this, for some magical rock that could turn lead to gold and make someone immortal. What was Dumbledore's solution for any trauma that may have resulted from this event... A summer with his magic hating relatives.  
Second year, he had to go down into a secret chamber to save his best friends sister from a giant snake who could kill you with one look. He ended up having to fight said snake and the memory of teenaged Voldemort, almost dying in the process.  
Surely this would leave some sort of mental scaring. But no, back to the Dursleys.  
Third year, he had been so, so close to escaping from his tormenters. It had been so close... Only for it to be snatched away. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had also had to face down practically an army for dementors.  
Back to the Dursleys.  
And this year...  
Forced into a death tournament. Witnessing a fellow student be murdered and the man who had killed his parents, who had tormented him every year since he had entered the magical world, rise from the dead...  
If he was mentally unstable, then it was no wonder why. Maybe he should try getting some mental help.  
He chuckled at the thought of explaining all his problems to a muggle theorist. That was one way to get him into the nut house. Maybe he'd be better off there than with the Dursleys.  
As he walked back to his small bedroom, he wondered if he should find out where he could find a wizard therapist. Wait, did wizards even have any form of therapy?  
He thought that surely they should. But considering how mental almost all of the wizards seemed to be, Harry thought this was likely the case.  
He looked out the window to see that Hedwig was returning from her night's hunt. He opened the window to let the snowy owl in.   
She landed on his shoulder and nuzzled him affectionately.  
Harry smiled.  
"At least I have you." He said, stroke his fevered friend.  
Even if his friends weren't writing to him properly, and he was stuck with the Dursleys, at least he still had Hedwig. Harry wondered if it was bad his most reliable friend at this moment was an owl.  
As Hedwig flew back to her cage, Harry walked back to his bed. Maybe he should try to get more sleep.  
As he laid back down and closed his eyes once more, he saw the face of that mysterious, dark woman. And he heard that strange, beautiful song.


	3. Sword and Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family fun and family drama at the same time. And is that King Arthur on the horizon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for disclaimer

Chapter 3:  
He was 5, running around the outside of his father's castle. He was holding the hand of his youngest brother, a mere year older than he.  
"Come on, come on." Said his brother.  
"I'm running as fast as I can Ris." He replied.  
"Well run faster." Ris replied.  
Both boys were excited. The night before, their [q~"]but declared that he believed they were both ready to begin weapon training with their elder brothers and himself.  
Ever since they could remember, they had both longed to step into the training yard and practice fighting with their brothers. They would constantly play fight by finding wooding sticks and pretending they were swords. Sometimes, at night when no one was around, they would sneak into the training yard and grab a couple of the wooden training swords. Once they had even been court by their eldest brother. But he just laughed and winked at them before walking away.  
That was what he loved about his brothers. All five of them were close. Even he, the youngest, was close to the eldest, who was 8 years his elder.  
They finally reached the training yard. But instead of hearing the clashing of training swords, they heard what sounded like the yelling voice of their mother.  
They rounded the corning and indeed, there she was. Their mother was beautiful. Long dark hair flowed down her back in waves. She usually wore dark coloured dresses and robes. And right now, her eyes were full of fury, aimed straight at their father.  
There father was a stern man, kind only to his sons and wife, when she wasn't publicly disagreeing with him. Such as was the case now.  
"I have made my decision, and that's final." Their father said.  
"He's to young! He might hurt himself!" Their mother yelled.  
The brothers glanced at each other when they heard their mother say "he" and not "they". They of course knew which of them she was referring to. Their mother had always had a soft spot for her youngest. Thankfully, this did not cause any conflict between the brothers.  
"Nonsense. Their brothers were just as young when they began training." Their father disagreed. "I do not recall you complaining about them possibly getting hurt."  
"Yes, well, this is different!"  
"How so?"  
He ducked his head down in embarrassment. He really didn't like it when his mother showed open favouritism. He didn't see any difference in importance between his four brothers and himself.  
He spotted his other three brothers standing to one side, watching the argument. Both he and Ris crept to them.  
"How long has this been going for?" He asked them.  
"For about thirty minutes, give or take." Answered his eldest brother. "I suppose mother cannot stand the thought of little baby Mordred getting hurt."  
"Shut up." He snapped, attempting to hit his brother. The older boy merely jumped to one side and laughed.  
"Now Gawain," Said his second brother, ever the voice of reason. "It's reasonable to think that mother would be protective over her youngest."  
"Don't you mean her favourite?" Gawain quipped.  
Mordred winced at the reminder of their mother's blatant favouritism. All three of the middle brothers swiped at Gawain, who was unable to dodge three attacks at once.  
"I was only joking." He said, holding his hands up in mock serenader.  
All five of them laughed. Then they turned to notice that their parents were still arguing.  
His second brother sighed.  
"Are we going to stop them? Or is Gawain to lead our youngest brothers' first training session."  
They all looked to one another.  
"Alright, Mordred, come with me." Said Gawain finally.  
"Why? Where are we going?" He asked nervously.  
"You're most likely the only one of us mother will listen to." Gawain replied.  
They both walked over to a weapon rack which held many swords, sphere, shields and other assorted weapons. Gawain picked up a shield and banged his fist loudly against it. He managed to make quite a large sound. He startled both Mordred and their parents, as well as half of the training yard. Once Gawain had court their parents attention, he pushed Mordred forward. Mordred cleared his throat.  
"Mother, I know that you are afraid for my safety. But I... I wish to learn how to fight like my brothers and father, so... So I am able to fight for myself and my home."  
His mother looked at him, her expression now gentle.  
"But, my son, what if you were to hurt yourself?" She asked, her tone now soft.  
"It does not matter mother. I am sure that with your magic, you will be able to heel me." He replied.  
"Oh, but why don't you learn some of my magic? You need not risk yourself with such barbaric tools."  
Mordred walked over to his mother and tugged on the hem of her dress. Look up, he gave her the expression which always worked to make her agree with him.  
"But I want to learn both. I want to be just like you and father. Please mother. If I learn both, then I will be twice as strong. Please."  
And just like that, his mother's expression melted.  
"Well, fine. But be careful." She said. "Did you hear that boys!" She yelled to her other four sons. Be careful with your brother!"  
"Yes Mother!" They all replied.  
His mother walked away as graceful as ever.  
Mordred's brother approached him.  
"That actually worked." His third brother said in disbelief.  
"Of course it work Gareth." Gawain said. "It was my plan after all."  
"And of course, the mighty Gawain's ideas always go to play." His second brother said sarcastically.  
"Shut up Agravaine." Gawain retorted.  
The clearing of a throat drew the five brothers' attention. Their father stood there, a scale on his face and a blunted sword in his hand.  
"If the five of you are done, I believe we have waisted enough time."

Harry jerked awake. Tiredly he put on his glasses and looked at his digital clock to see it was only 6:00 a.m.  
He sighed and decided to get up and dressed. Maybe a walk would clear his mind.  
Quietly, he excited the house. He somehow managed to pick the lock of the back door without waking the Dursleys. Thank God for the Weasley twins. After the incident before second year, they had taught him the technique of lock picking. This had become exceedingly valuable for when he wanted to access his belonging during the summer when Uncle Vernon locked them in the cupboard under the stairs.  
At this moment, he only had his wand and invisibility cloak. All summer he has kept these two items on him at all times, just in case Voldemort decided to make his move.  
As he walked through the streets, he thought of his latest dream.  
For the past couple of weeks his dreams had not exactly been replaying the same exact scenes, but were rather more of a story. This story mostly featured a young boy with his four brothers and parents. The mother of the family was the same he had seen in his first dream. The beautiful yet dark woman. If her name had ever been mentioned, he could not remember. In fact, he could not remember any of the people's names. Not even the name of the boy who's life he seemed to be living during his dreams.  
But he did remember the four brothers. For some reason they reminded him of something he could not quiet remember.  
He rarely saw the father. But this time he reminded Harry of someone, he just couldn't put his finger on it.  
Nothing made sense. What was going on? Was he making stuff up in his head to avoid thinking about that night in the graveyard?  
He walked into the park and sat on one of the only swings which had not been broken by Dudley and his gang. Gently, swung it make and forth as he thought more about his dream.  
He remembered that he and the fourth brother were excited because their father were going to teach them how to fight with a sword. He remembered that their parents were arguing. He chuckled as he thought of his solution to calming the woman down. It turns out, even the scariest of witches could be persuaded by puppy-dog eyes.  
He frowned. That was another thing. The mother was a witch. In many of the dreams he had seen her use her magic. This wouldn't have bothered him, only it did not appear that anyone else in the dreams possessed magic. Not the father, not any of the brothers. He possibly had magic, but that was it.  
Harry noticed a large stick on the ground. In a few of the dreams he and his brothers had been play fighting with sticks. The mother would always get angry at the brothers because he would end up covered in bruisers. They all ended up pretty bruised, but the mother only seemed to care about him.  
He got off the swing and walked over to pick the stick up. He twirled it a few times before jabbing and swinging it as if it were an actual sword. As he did, he closed his eyes and remembered the only time he had ever held an actual sword.  
He remembered reaching into the sorting hat and pulling out the sword of Gryfindor. As he swung that beautiful sword, he remembered it felt natural, as if he had held a blade before, when he knew he had never done any such thing in his life.  
Harry shook his head and dropped the stick. He walked over to a bench and sat down.  
What did these dreams mean? And why were they only happening now?  
Unbidden, Harry felt his eyelids getting heavier.

He was standing with his brothers near the gate of the castle. He, his family and all of the castle staff were expecting a very important visitor. Only two weeks ago, their father informed him that the High King was coming all the way from Camelot. Mordred had never met the High King, and Ris had only been a new born babe when their family had last been in Camelot. Mordred was excited, not only because he was going to meet the High King, but because the High King was also his Uncle, his mother's brother.  
His mother was quick to remind anyone who mentioned her relation to the High King that he was only her half-brother, as they did not share the same father. Mordred had the feeling that his mother did not like the High King much. But he couldn't understand this. Why wouldn't she? If he was her brother, then why wouldn't she like him? Mordred loved his brothers, even if they sometimes annoyed him.  
Soon, he heard the sound of approaching horse hooves. The gates opened to reveal the High King, Arthur Pendragon, accompanied by knights wearing glittering armour.  
Gawain looked excited, barely able to stand still. He adored the tales he heard of Arthur and his knights. Agravaine looked calmer, yet still excited for the visitors. Gareth, always the introvert, nervously glanced around. And as for himself and Ris, they were both attempted to examine every part of their vissitors. When Arthur reached his parents, he dismounted his horse and bowed to them.  
"My lord, my Lady, I thank you for your warm welcome." He said.  
"It is a pleasure to have you Sire." His father replied.  
"The pleasure is all mine." The High King replied.  
Arthur glanced at his mother.  
"Morgana, my dear sister. I hope you are well?"  
"Well enough, brother." His mother replied.  
Mordred could sense the tension in his mother's voice. He glanced between the two siblings. They truly looked as different as night and day. Where his mother was dark, Arthur was fair haired.  
Mordred glanced down and saw the legendary sword, Excalibur, shining at the king's hip. Legend has it that the sword had been a gift to him from The Lady of the Lake, a powerful sorceress whom even his mother respected.  
"Come," Arthur said. "Let me see my Nephews. It has been quiet a long time since I've seen them."  
One by one, the High King examined his brothers.  
"Gawain, is that truly you? I barely recognised you." He said when he saw Gawain.  
"It has been a long time Uncle." Gawain replied.  
"I trust your training is going on well." Said Arthur.  
"Indeed." His father boasted. "He is a bold and mighty warrior."  
Nodded and moved on to the others. Eventually, he reached Mordred.  
"And who might this young one be?" He asked.  
Mordred could not quiet read the expression on Arthur's face. Was that shock, horror, fear, maybe even guilt?  
"I am Mordred Sire." He replied respectfully.  
"Mordred." Arthur muttered.  
His father cleared his throat.  
"Perhaps we should go inside. You and your party are tired, no doubt."  
Arthur hummed in agreement.  
And with that, they all went inside.

The King stayed for two weeks. In those two weeks, he had many discussions with his father. He also seemed to be observing Mordred and his brothers, Gawain especially. This them much displeased his mother.  
A few nights before the King and his party were to leave, Gawain gathered the five of them together. Apparently, he had something he would like to share with them. His eldest brother was grinning from ear to ear and could not seem to stand still for very long.  
"Today I was called into a meeting with Father, Mother and King Arthur. You will never guess what was discussed."  
The four of them glanced at their eldest brother in curiosity.  
"I am to accompany Arthur to Camelot. I am going to being training to become an actual knight."  
They were all shock. Then Agravaine clapped him on the back.  
"Congratulations brother."  
"Well done." Gareth smiled timidly.  
"Are you going to bring back stories of your adventures?" Ris asked.  
"Can I come too?" Mordred asked. He had always wanted to go on adventures, and now his brother was to be a knight of Camelot.  
Gawain laughed.  
"You'll have to get a bit better with the sword before you can accompany me to Camelot." He said, grinning.  
They all laughed. Then, Agravaine frowned thoughtfully.  
"I bet Father and Mother did not react well to this."  
Gawain sighed.  
"Father seemed accepting. Mother, on the other hand..." He trailed off.  
They all sat in silence for a long time. Then Mordred sighed.  
"I better go talk to her."  
He was the only one who could calm his mother down when she was in one of her moods.  
He stood up, bid farewell to his brothers, and went to where he knew his mother would be. When she was upset, she would always go into her study, full of magic books and enchanted artifacts.

Mordred found his mother sitting on a chair near the window, glancing out at the world beyond.  
"Mother?" He said timidly.  
She glanced over at him. Instantly a smile drew across her face.  
"Mordred. Come, sit."  
Mordred walked over to her. She gently picked him up and cradled him in her lap. Gently she stroked her fingers through his hair.  
"He thinks to take him away from me." His mother muttered. "He would dare insist upon my son joining him. He would take yet another person a love from me."  
He knew that she was talking about how Arthur was taking Gawain to Camelot with him. Mordred knew that, despite her favouritism, his mother still in some way loved all of her children.  
"Well do not worry little Mordred. He will pay. One day, he will pay."  
And then she began to sing the lullaby she always sang to him as a small infant.

Guileless son,  
I'll shape your belief,  
And you'll always know that your Father's a thief,  
And you won't understand the cause of your grief,  
But you'll always follow the voices beneath...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick, somebody get a family theorapist.  
> Anyway, yes, Mordred's brothers, or as I like to call them, The Orkney Brothers (Doesn't that sound like a cool band?) will be reincarnated. I've got a pretty good I dear of who they're going to be, but just for the fun of it I'll let you guess and see how many you get right.  
> For any that might have gotten confused, hear's how I imagen their ages:  
> Lot 38  
> Morgana 30,  
> Arthur 23  
> Gawain 13,  
> Agravaine 11,  
> Gareth 8,  
> Gaheris 6,  
> Mordred 5,  
> Thanks for reading. Any feedback is welcome. Large time skip in the dreams next chapter. And things get interesting.


	4. Childhood's end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Mordred is growing up. Lot gives Mordred a family history lesson. Also, there is forshadowing for events to come.

Chapter 4:  
Mordred jumped to his left. He swung his blunted sword to block the oncoming attack to his right side. As his opponent's sword swiped at his feet he jumped high. As he came down he span, aiming for his opponent's right shoulder. Blocked.  
He was back on the defensive, dancing and weaving. Not once did he hit his opponent. Nor did his opponent hit him.  
"Enough!"  
Finally, he stopped his deadly dance.  
Covered in sweat, he looked up to see his father, who was actually breathing heavily.  
"You did well." His father told him. "But I still think you need to learn the difference between fighting and dancing. Now go, clean yourself up. You smell worse than the stables."  
Mordred chuckled as he put away his blunted sword. His father was a harsh teacher. It had been 7 years since the two youngest children of Morgana and Lot had first began their training in the art of combat. They had spent long days honing their skills in swordplay, archery and hand to hand fighting. Their father would put them through long hours of strength, speed and agility training. Any mistakes would result in them getting bruisers, much to their mother's dismay. Mordred thought it was only the fear of his mother's wrath which kept his father restricted enough to avoid any greater injuries.  
When Mordred wasn't being put through combat training with his father, he was learning magic from his mother. She had taught him many different spells. They varied from spells as simple as a basic light spell, to spells which could cause great damage in a combat situation. While she was very open in what she taught him, her motherly instincts thankfully kept her from educating him in the most destructive side of magic.  
Mordred had tried to teach Gaheris some of what their mother taught him. But unfortunately, it seemed as if Gaheris had not inherited any magical talent. Thankfully, this did not cause any resentment towards his youngest brother.  
As Mordred was walking on the ramparts of the castle, he saw Gaheris sitting on the edge, looking out at the world beyond.  
"You better not be thinking of jumping!" He called out to his brother.  
Gaheris looked up to meet his youngest brother's gaze.  
"Of course not." He replied. "Just watching for their approach."  
Mordred went to sit next to his brother.  
"Anything yet?" He asked.  
"Nay." Gaheris replied.  
They both looked out at the land beyond the gate.  
Ever since Gawain had first left their home for Camelot, he and Arthur had returned every year for around two weeks. This had of course, not gone well with their mother. While she was glad to see her eldest son again, she was not so glad to see her half-brother. It did not help that Gawain came home with stories of the glories of Arthur Pendragon and his greatest night, sir Lancelot. Or of the beautiful Queen Guinevere and the extraordinary sight of Camelot.  
What made matters worse was that, once one of the brothers turned 13, Arthur would insist that they accompany him to Camelot.  
First Gawain, then Agravaine, then Gareth. All had been ordered by the High King to Camelot. It did not matter how hesitant they were, such as in the case of timid Gareth, or how skilled they were, such as the more scholarly Agravaine. Arthur seemed to want to keep an eye on his sisters sons. The High King claimed it was to assist them in their training, teaching them ways of fighting which their father and other men of Orkney may not know.  
Their father believed it was to ensure their loyalty. Arthur had been married to his wife, Queen Guinevere, for 14 years. However, the High King still remained without an heir. This meant that the people of Britain looked to Gawain and the rest of Morgana's children as potential heirs to Arthur's throne. Therefore, it was only logical that Arthur would wish to ensure the loyalty of his nephews, as they may one day inherit his crown.  
Their mother, however, believed that Arthur had a more nefarious reason for wanting to have his sister's children so close.  
She believed that Arthur was attempting to turn her sons against her. She would often ramble about how Arthur was taking her children far away from her influence and feeding them lies about her, causing them to think that she was some sort of evil sorceress. When Mordred asked her why he would do this, she would reply by saying:  
"To punish me."  
And when Mordred asked what Arthur could possibly want to punish her for, she would just simply smile, stroke his hair, and sing the song which she had often put him to sleep with.  
No matter what the reasons were, it did not change the fact that this year, it would be Gaheris's turn to be taken to Camelot. They all knew that it was going to happen. It was very heavily anticipated by everyone. This was evident in the behaviour of the family.  
Their mother was in a constant bad mood that even had their stern father on edge. Not even Mordred could calm her down. Many said her mood was due to her soon losing a fourth son to her half-brother, whom she publicly disliked. Still many more saw it as her realising that it was only a year until her fifth and final son, whom many believed she favoured, would be ordered to Camelot.  
Their father seemed more easily tempered then usual, taking it out in the form of harsher training sessions. This could be due to his wife's current mood, or it could be because of him losing another son and heir to the orders of the High King.  
Mordred, on the other hand, was merely depressed. Once Gaheris was gone, Mordred would be all alone. He had no one else to play with. All of the boys his age were servants, who had their own duties. He did not like the thought of all of his brothers, off on adventures with Arthur and his nights, while he was stuck here.  
While he had felt saddened by the departure of each of his brothers, it felt worse to have to say goodbye to Gaheris. Though all of the brothers were close, none were more so than Mordred and Gaheris. Perhaps it had something to do with them only being a year apart, causing them to be practically twins. Whatever the reason, they always did everything together. They played together, fought together, laughed together. Gaheris had insisted upon delaying the start of his training for an entire year so that he and Mordred were able to start it at the same time, as their mother outright refused for them to even lift a practice sword until they were at least five.  
Both boys highly doubted they could persuade the High King to wait another year before calling Gaheris to Camelot, so that both he and Mordred could go together.  
Mordred glanced at his brother.  
"You know," He said. "It's going to be strange, not having you here."  
"And it's going to be strange, not seeing you." Gaheris replied.  
"I know it's only going to be a year." Said Mordred. "But..."  
"It's going to be the longest year of our lives." Gaheris finished.  
They both sighed and turned to look out again.  
"I don't suppose we could try to persuade Arthur to wait another year." Gaheris muttered.  
Mordred scoffed.  
"We'd probably have an easier time persuading mother to let me go one year early."  
Gaheris hit the side of the battlements.  
"That's it!"  
"What's it?"  
Gaheris turned to face him, a large grin on his face.  
"Why don't we ask Arthur if you could come too?"  
Mordred looked at him in shock.  
"Ris, that is an insane idea. You know that mother would never approve."  
"Who says we need her approval?" Gaheris retorted. "It's not as if the High King takes orders from her. All we need to do is convince him to let you come along."  
Mordred frowned in hesitation. He did not feel comfortable, discussing things which could potentially hurt his mother. No matter what people may whisper about her behind closed doors, she was still his mother and he loved her. And he knew that this would most certainly upset her.  
However, he also loved his brothers, and he had missed having the five of them together.  
"Come on Mordred." His brother urged. "We can get Gawain, Agravaine and Gareth in on it too. Arthur can't ignore all five of us."  
"Alright." Mordred agreed with some hesitation. "Just remember, if this blows up in our faces, it was your idea."  
Gaheris laughed. Then, he went quiet, peering off into the distance.  
"Hey look, I believe they're here."  
Mordred turned to look in the same direction as Gaheris. Indeed, he could see several figures in the distance approaching at a rapid speed.  
They both hurriedly got up and ran down from the battlements. It would not do to be late in greeting the High King, as well as welcoming home their brothers.

Once Gaheris and Mordred managed to gather their three brothers in a private location, where they could minimise the chance of being overheard, they explained what they had been planning. The reactions from the three was varied, to say the least.  
Gawain's face had broken into a large grin, and he was now laughing in delight.  
"Oh, yes. I have missed having all five of us together. This is a marvelous idea."  
"No it's not!" Gareth exclaimed anxiously.  
This caused his four brothers to look at him strangely. Though the past two years he had spent in Camelot had done much to improve his confidence, he was still the most shy and cautious of the five brothers.  
"You know how much mother hates Arthur. Do you not recall how angered she was every time we were called to Camelot? I can guaranty you that she will be absolutely livid if she knew that Mordred wish to go a year early. You know how she feels about..."  
He cut himself off and glanced apologetically at Mordred. Said brother just shrugged.  
"It is alright brother. After all these years I have learnt to accept it. I may not like her blatant favouritism, however, I am intelligent enough to know that I cannot change how she feels. It is I who should be apologising, for I am the one whom she dotes upon."  
"You have nothing to apologise for." Retorted Gaheris. "As you said, you cannot control how our mother feels. No matter how either of our parents feel, I still love you just as much as our other brothers."  
The other three nodded in agreement. Mordred blushed a deep shade of crimson. He cleared his throat to clear away his embarrassment.  
"In any case, Gareth, I am aware that this may.. Um, upset mother..."  
There were several scoffs throughout the room.  
"However, we are all aware, including mother, that Arthur would call me to Camelot in a year's time anyway, regardless of anyone's feelings. It is my belief that throughout this year, if I were to remain here, mother's mood would only worsen. She is already aggravated enough. I feel that the anticipation of loosing her fifth and final son would cause her more harm than good. Therefore, I believe that it would be best for me to accompany Gaheris this year, as to not prolong our mother's suffering."  
There was a long silence as Mordred's brothers soaked up his words. After a few minutes of complete silence, the youngest brother turned to Agravaine.  
"Agravaine, you have been quite silent during this discussion. What do you think of this plan?"  
Agravaine appeared to think over his words for a few seconds before answering.  
"It may work. While I am concerned for mother's reaction, perhaps you are correct in saying that it would be best for both of you to come to Camelot. However, in all of this discussion, not once have you shown concern for how father may feel."  
Mordred looked down in shame. He had been so concerned for how his mother may react that he had completely forgotten that his father may not be pleased with him wanting to go to Camelot a year earlier than expected. Finally, he looked up at his brothers. He took a deep breath and sighed.  
"Well, I shall just have to explain to him that I wish to be reunited with my brothers once again. Hopefully he will understand that my decisions were being made with the love I hold for my brothers in mind. I do truly miss you all, and I do not know how I will be able to cope without any of you by my side."  
It was true. Mordred loved his brothers. He missed the days when they would all play in the fields and pretend they were daring adventurers. As he looked around at his siblings, he realised how much they had changed over the years. All of them, even the bookish Agravaine, were tall and muscular. Gawain even appeared to have a beard.  
Mordred looked down at himself and realised just how different he looked. He had always been skinnier than his brothers. But now that he was older, the shape of his body was extremely different to how his brothers looked. While they were large and bulky, Mordred was small and lean. It didn't help matters that Gaheris, who was only one year older than him, was about a head taller.  
Mordred shook his head. Perhaps he took more after his mother. In any case, it did not matter.  
"So, will you all agree to go along with this plan?" He asked his brothers.  
"If this is what you want." Gareth replied.  
"In the end Mordred, it is your choice to convince Arthur to allow you to come along. I will not tell you how to live your life brother." Said Agravaine. "Though, I do hope you realise what you are getting yourself into."  
Mordred nodded.  
"I am aware that it will be difficult, and that it will be dangerous."  
He grinned.  
"But as long as I have my brothers with me, I know that I can get through anything."  
Gawain laughed.  
"Yes, this is an excellent idea."  
"Then it is settled." Gaheris said smiling. "We have two weeks to convince Arthur to allow Mordred to come with us this year."

For the next few days, the five brothers would meet regularly to discuss how they should execute their plan. Eventually, it was decided that both Mordred and Gaheris should approach the High King and ask if he would allow the youngest of his nephews to come to Camelot a year earlier than they predicted. So, on a bright and early morning a week into the King's visit, the two youngest brothers approach Arthur where he was sitting with their father, just finishing breakfast.  
"Sire, Father." They both greeted respectfully.  
"Gaheris, Mordred, how are you this morning?" Their father asked.  
"We are well father." Gaheris replied.  
"We were actually going to ask something of his Majesty, but perhaps it is best if you heard us out as well." Continued Mordred.  
Both men raised their eye-brows. Arthur gestured for the brothers to continue.  
"Well," Gaheris began. "I am correct in assuming that you intended to invite me to accompany you to Camelot this year, as I am the same age as my brothers were when you asked each of them?"  
Arthur nodded.  
"And are we also correct in assuming that you had planned to invite me next year, as I will be thirteen next year?" Mordred continued.  
Arthur nodded again, but this time his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
Mordred cleared his throat nervously.  
"Well, we were wondering, if perhaps, you could allow me to come with you this year."  
He turned to his father.  
"If of course, you also approve of such a thing father."  
Arthur studied him.  
"What would cause you to make such a request?" He asked carefully.  
"Well, you see sire, Gaheris and I are very close. All of us are close. However, due to our closeness in age, the bond that we share is almost akin to that of twins. We cannot stand to be without the other for to long. I do not feel as if I could stand it if I was forced to be separated from all four of my brothers, even if only for a year. I am also concerned for my mother. You see Sire, she dearly loves us all, and has become increasingly anxious due to her sons being so far away. I feel that she anticipates that in only a years time she shall have to say fare well to her final son. I fear what this may do to her mental state."  
He looked at the High King pleadingly.  
"So therefore, I ask that you allow me to come with you to Camelot this year, not for my own sake, but for the sake of my mother, your sister. Please sire, do not prolong her suffering."  
He said the last part in almost a whisper.  
Arthur gazed at him thoughtfully. Then he turned to his father.  
"What do you think Lot? Do you believe that your youngest son is ready for Camelot?"  
"Well," His father began. "His fighting technique resembles more of a dance's routine than actual combat. However, he is farely skilled in his speed and agility."  
Arthur considered this.  
"Very well." He finally said. "Let us see how well you do against me, Mordred."  
"I beg your pardon Sire?" Mordred spluttered in shock. He couldn't be suggesting what he thought he was suggesting?  
"Let us test your skills against my own." Arthur replied, getting up from his seat. "Once I have seen how well you fight, I will consider weather or not I believe you are ready."  
Mordred glanced at his brother, wide eyed. Gaheris shrugged. All Mordred could do was follow his father and the High King to the training yard.

Once they reached the training yard, Arthur headed straight for the weapon rack where he picked up a blunted sword. He then moved to a clear spot and waited for Mordred patiently.  
Mordred attempted to grasp the hilt of a blunted sword. However, his hand was shaking violently. He was about to face Arthur Pendragon in combat. Oh, what had he gotten himself into?  
Finally, he was able to calm himself enough to stop his hands from shaking to badly. Once he had grabbed the sword, he walked over to face Arthur, a mere few feet of empty space being the only thing that was separating them.  
Mordred eyed his opponent. The King was tall and leanly built. Though he was not bulky like Mordred's brothers, he could tell that Arthur's arms rippled with muscles.  
Suddenly, as quick as a flash, Arthur aimed the blunted sword for his head. It was only thanks to Mordred's quick reflexes that he was able to duck out of the way.  
"Good reflexes." Arthur complimented. "Though you need to remember to pay attention at all times."  
This continued for some time. Both would duck and weave and dance out of the way of each other's weapons. Their swords clashed loudly whenever they struck one another.  
Mordred noted that they fought in much the same way, though Arthur's technique was much more refined. This was only to be expected, as Arthur had been honing his skills with a blade since before Mordred was even conceived.  
Mordred lost track of time as the fighting went on. He also lost focus of the world around him. All that mattered was Arthur, the two swords, and the terrain.  
Suddenly, he noticed Arthur falter. It would appear that he had slipped on a patch of grass which was still wet and muddy, due to the rain from the night before. Mordred seized the opportunity to disarm his opponent.  
It came as a great surprise to everyone, especially Mordred, when Arthur's sword actually flew out of his hand to land far away from him.  
It did not last long though, as Arthur was instantly on the move. Mordred believed that he was going to attempt to take back his sword. But instead, Arthur surprised him by making a sudden turn in the direction of the weapon rack. By the time Mordred had caught up to him, Arthur had already pick up a spear.  
Arthur used his new found range to nock Mordred to the side. Mordred was not expecting the weapon change. So he was nocked down to the ground by the spear. He rolled from his side onto his back, only to be met with the head of Arthur's spear aimed straight at his stomach.  
Mordred had somehow managed to keep hold of his sword. Hence, he attempted to swing at Arthur with it. However, he was unable to reach his opponent.  
"The only way you will be able to strike me down now was if you further skewered yourself upon my spear." The High King said teasingly.  
He removed the spear from Mordred's stomach and offered the boy a hand up, which he took gladly.  
"You did well." Arthur complimented. "Though you still have much to learn, I believe you may be ready for Camelot."  
The High King looked over at Mordred's father.  
"That is, if you agree Lot."  
Mordred's father stared at his youngest son.  
"Mordred," He said finally. "Is this truly what you want?"  
"Yes father." Mordred replied.  
"Then, I suppose I will agree to it." His father replied.  
Mordred grinned. All four of his brothers came over to congratulate him. As Mordred looked around, he noticed that he and Arthur had attracted quite the crowd. However, there was one face missing. His mother's.

For the next week, as Gaheris and Mordred both prepared for their departure, the youngest of the brothers attempted to catch a moment alone with his mother. However, whenever he managed to find her, she would always quickly walk away. She spent most of her time in her study. She allowed no visitors, not even Mordred. This greatly upset him. This was exactly what he had feared.  
Finally, on the morning before they were to depart, Mordred was suddenly woken up by singing.  
It was his mother. She was sitting on the side of his bed, stroking his hair and singing the lullaby she would sing to him when he was a small child.  
"Mother?" He asked blearily.  
"Shhh." She hushed him. "Do not worry Guileless son. Everything will be alright."  
"Mother." He repeated. "I... I am sorry if me wishing to go to Camelot a year early upset you..."  
"Hush child." She whispered. "You have nothing to fear. This is perfect. Soon the Pendragon will pay for all that he and his wretched ilk has done to me. Just remember Mordred." She said, cupping his face with one hand. "To never trust Arthur Pendragon or his beloved wizard."  
"You mean Merlin?" Mordred blurted out. He had heard tales of the old wizard who served Arthur and had served his father, uther, before him.  
"Do not say that name." His mother hissed. Then she turned gentle again. "Oh, Guileless son. Soon, everything will unfold as planned."  
Then she gracefully got up and left his chambers.  
Mordred shuddered. His mother had honestly frightened him. What had she meant by all that she had said? What plans?  
Mordred shook his head and decided he should get dressed.  
That evening, he was summoned to his father's study. He nocked on the door hesitantly and entered.  
"Father." He greeted.  
"Mordred, come sit." His father gestured to an armchair near the fireplace. He took the one opposite his youngest son.  
"I am aware," He began. "That your mother paid you a visit this morning."  
Mordred started. "Father, I..."  
His father held up a hand. "You need not tell me of what you discussed, for I believe I can guess that it was concerning her plots against King Arthur."  
Mordred stared at him.  
"How did you...?"  
His father raised an eyebrow.  
"She isn't exactly subtle when it comes to her hatred of her brother."  
"That is what I do not understand." Mordred blurted. "Why does Mother hate her brother so much? What did he do to warrant such hate?"  
His father sighed.  
"It is quite a long story."  
Mordred sat back expectantly.  
"It all started when your mother was but a young girl. As you know, at the time, Uther Pendragon, Arthur's father, had been raging a war to unite all of the British kingdoms under one ruler.  
Uther was greatly assisted by his most trusted general, the Duke of Cornwall, your Grandfather, Gorlois. Together the two were invincible. They actually managed to unite the people of Britain.  
However, just as they were celebrating their victory, Uther saw Igraine, Gorlois's wife. He demanded that his friend allow him to sleep with his wife. This of course, did not settle well with Gorlois. Hence, the conflict began again."  
Mordred gaped.  
"Uther began a conflict over his lust for a woman? And just after he had achieved a mighty victory?"  
Lot shook his head.  
"You will be surprised what men will do in the name of their own selfish desires. In any case, Uther went to war so that he may win Igraine, and Gorlois thought for the honour of his beloved wife and himself.  
Eventually, Uther approach his trusted adviser and sorcerer, Merlin. The wizard disguised Uther so that he resembled Gorlois. In his disguise, Uther easily walked straight past the guards in Gorlois's fortress, for how were they to know that their lord was still fighting tirelessly against Uther's forces?  
When it came to Igraine, the poor girl had no way of knowing the man she was willingly allowing to come into her bed was not her husband."  
His father cleared his throat.  
"Anyway, once Uther was done finally fulfilling his urges, the couple heard yelling, coming from the front courtyard. They both hurriedly got dressed. Igraine rushed down into the courtyard while Uther snuck away to return to his men. However, he did not leave alone.  
Once Igraine arrived in the courtyard, she saw the last thing she expected. The dead body of her husband. This caused much confusion concerning who they had welcomed into the fortress, and who Igraine had welcomed into her bed.  
Eventually, a messenger from Uther arrived saying that now that Gorlois was dead, Uther was demanding that Igraine marry him. And if she refused, then she would never see her daughter again. For you see, in the confusion Uther had kidnapped your mother, a mere six years old at the time.  
Igraine, who loved her daughter dearly, had no choice but to agree. Nine months later, Igraine would die birthing Uther's son."  
"Arthur." Mordred whispered.  
His father nodded.  
"But why... Why does she hate Arthur? I can understand Merlin and Uther, but why Arthur?"  
His father sighed.  
"Because, she blames Arthur for the death of her mother."  
"But that's..."  
Mordred felt conflicted. On one hand, it was a little unfair that his mother blamed Arthur for their mother's death when he had had no choice in the matter. On the other hand, she was still his mother, and he loved her.  
His father sighed.  
"Mordred, just please. Be careful. I do not know what your mother is planning, but I know it involves you and I am afraid."  
Mordred was shocked. His father very rarely showed fear. To hear this open confession was shocking, to say the least.  
"Just please, do not fall into any traps your mother has laid out for you. Do not give into her manipulations."  
"I won't father." Mordred replied.  
His father reached out and grasped his shoulder.  
"Come, you must be off to bed. You have a big day tomorrow."  
Just as Mordred reached the door, his father called out.  
"Mordred."  
The young boy turned.  
"I know you will make me proud."  
Mordred turned and blinked away his tears. It was extremely rare for his father to show any emotion. He was always hiding behind a stern mask.  
The next morning, as he rode away from the home he had known his entire life, he thought of the conversations he had had with his parents. They both confused him.  
What was he to now think of his mother, of Arthur, of anything.  
He shook his head.  
It did not matter. All that mattered was that he was going to Camelot with his brothers. And so ended his years of childhood and began the journey of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest, chapter, yet. I just couldn't find the right place to end it. Let me tell you, spell check was a nightmare.  
> So, Mordred is finally off to Camelot. Now the drama really begins.  
> What did you think of the fight scene between Mordred and Arthur? Did I do okay? This was one of my first attempts at writing a fight scene. So I hope it was okay.  
> Fun fact for any of you MCU fans, when I was describing the difference in phisicle appearence between Mordred and his brothers, I had a certain pair of Marvel brothers in mind, if you know what I mean.  
> Don't worry, I'm planning on having more Harry next chapter. Thanks for reading.


	5. Answers leading to more questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dementors arive in Surry, and the Orkney Brothers arive in Camelot.

Chapter 5:

Harry was in the same park he had been coming to for the past month. He sat on the swing, think about his latest dream. He had actually begun to record his dreams in a journal, which he had bought from a Muggle shop. Thankfully, he had had the foresight to exchange some of his wizard money for Muggle money two years previously when he had last been to Gringots, and currently had a secret stash with the rest of his treasured belongings under the loose floorboard in his bedroom.  
He tapped his pen against the page of the journal as he tried to recall the fading images of his dreams. Even so late in the day, much of his dream was still quite vivid.  
He could remember the vague images of people and events, not so much of names and faces. He did remember fighting with the boy's uncle, who also happened to be a very important king. He remembered the boy having a conversation were his father, but not exactly what it was about.  
What was clearest about his dreams, were only two words. Words which had been spoken to him by the mother.  
"Guileless Son."  
What did that even mean? And why did it make him feel so many conflicting emotions?  
Harry suddenly remembered that these were the first words of each verse to the song which the mother always sang to him.

Guileless son,  
I'll shape your belief,  
And you'll always know that your Father's a thief...  
Harry quickly wrote the words down. He thought that maybe, if he decoded this riddle, then he might be able to figure out the meaning behind his dreams.  
If only Hermione was here. She would probably be able to figure this out in minutes. Just look at how well she did against the Snape riddle in first year.  
Harry shook his head. No, he couldn't do this with Hermione.  
While he had been having these dreams for over six weeks now, he had not yet told anyone of them. He thought that if his friends did not want to share with him, then why should he share with them?  
Anyway, he could figure this song out by himself. He did pretty well against the Sphinx during the third task.  
He shook his head and continued to contemplate the lyrics.  
"Guileless Son." Harry had no idea what Guileless meant.  
"I'll shape your belief." Shape your belief? Harry thought over this for a long time. It sounded as if the person singing this was saying she would manipulate him into believing what she wanted him to believe. Harry shuddered at this thought.  
"And you'll always know that your father's a thief."  
What could that possibly mean? While the father in his dreams was harsh at times, Harry would not exactly call him a thief.  
"And you won't understand the course of your grief. But you'll always follow, the voices beneath..."  
Harry took a deep breath and sighed. This was going to be extremely difficult. He felt as if he were trying to put together a puzzle with most of the peaces missing.  
He was jerked out of his thoughts when he heard approaching voices. He looked up to see Dudley and his gang walking through the park, doubtlessly on their way home from beating up yet another child of Little Winging. He had come to hate how Dudley was the one beating up teen year olds, and yet he, Harry, was the one considered a delinquent.  
Harry thought of the eldest brother from his dreams. He e imagined how Dudley would react to seeing him. He and his gang would go running for the hills.  
Harry decided to follow Dudley home, as Uncle Vernon would not be to happy if he came home even a minute later than Dudley. As he reached the corner leading into Magnolia Crecsent, he was forced to stifle a laugh as he heard Dudley's new nickname.  
"Big D"?  
What could that possibly mean?  
Harry smirked as he thought of what the "D" in "Big D", could mean.  
When the gang left, Harry caught up with Dudley. He knew the wise thing would be to not engage him. Harry had been told by his friends, and much to his is incredulity, Sirius, to not get into trouble.  
But with the combination of him not receiving actual information from his friends and his extremely confusing and frustrating dreams, Harry felt as if he needed to blow off some steam. Plus, Dudley definitely deserved it.  
At first it was fun, teasing Dudley about his new nickname and wondering if his new friends were aware of some of the names Aunt Petunia used to call, and still calls, Dudley. It just felt good, to lash out at something after so many weeks of frustration. But then Dudley said something that caught Harry right off guard.  
"You think your some brave, don't you? With that... That thing in your pocket. But your not as brave at night when your in bed and screaming nonsense words."  
Harry paused. Nonsense words in his sleep? He was not aware of any such night time happenings. What if... What if they could provide some much needed information? Even the slightest clue would be good.  
"What nonsense words." He asked, attempting to fain casualty.  
"I do not." Dudley said, shrugging. "Gahearist... Garwean... Agrovan... Geareeth..."  
"You mean Gaheris, Gawain, Agravaine and Gareth?" Harry asked, not knowing where the words he knew to be names came from.  
"Whatever." Dudley replied. "What are they? Something from that freak school you go to?"  
"They're names." Harry replied.  
Dudley snorted.  
"Really stupid names."  
"Says the one who's name is Dudley."  
"Who are they? Your little freaky friends? With names like that, they I wouldn't be surprised. They sound like the freakiest of them all."  
Harry suddenly got really offended. Somehow, he felt a connection with these names, or who they might potentially belong to. And Harry was not about to let Dudley of all people bad mouth them.  
Suddenly, everything went cold and dark.  
"What... What are you doing?" Dudley stuttered.  
"I'm not doing anything." Replied Harry.  
Suddenly, Dudley mad to punch him. By some miracle, Harry managed to dodge out of the way. The larger teen began to run.  
A sense of dread then filled Harry as he saw two hooded shapes coming towards him and Dudley. Dementors. But how? Why? And the worst part was that Dudley was running straight towards one of them.  
The other moved toward Harry. He acted on instinct. He drew his wand and attempted to conjure a happy memory.  
For some reason, the memory which came to mind was something which he had only seen in his dreams. It was a scene with the five brothers, together and happy. Harry did not know why, but this filled him with more joy than most of his other memories.  
The silver stag which erupted from the tip of his wand was as bright as the moon on a clear night. The dementors did not stand a chance.

Later Harry sat at the small desk in his bedroom, looking in his journal.  
The past hour had been quite eventful. Confronting the Dursleys after coming home with Dudley looking as if he had just thought against an army of ghosts. Owls constantly swooping in. Being expelled from Hogwarts, only to then be unexpelled and be sentenced to a ministry hearing. It was all too much.  
As soon as he was able to return to his room, he had sat down at his desk, taken out his journal, and began to write the names which Dudley and given to him.  
Gaheris, Gawain, Agravaine and Gareth.  
He presumed that, as there was four of them, these were the names of four of the brothers from his dreams, as the five brothers were the most central characters. He also theorised that they were the four eldest brothers, as he appeared to be dreaming from the perspective of the youngest brother.  
The only problem was, trying to figure out who these people were. He knew he had heard of them somewhere. He just did not know where.  
He sighed. After all the drama from that night, he only wanted to sleep. Who knows? Maybe he might be able to find some more information from his dream.  
So he laid, hoping for answers in his latest dream.

They had been travelling for several weeks. Both Mordred and Gaheris could hardly wait to reach Camelot. They were constantly fidgeting with excitement. It didn't help that their brothers, especially Gawain, kept telling them stories of the incredible capital of Arthur's kingdom.  
When they were within a days ride to Camelot, his three brothers took him and Gaheris aside to have a privet conversation with them. They could tell that it was important, as even Gawain's face was painted with a serious expression.  
"Before we reach Camelot," Began Agravaine. "We feel that we must warn you of something which could put all of us, most of all Mordred, in great danger."  
The two youngest brothers listened closely. Gareth continued.  
"As you are aware, Arthur has very strict laws concerning magic. While it is not strictly forbidden, no one in Britain is allowed to practice any forms of magic that have not been first approved of by Arthur's court sorcerer, Merlin."  
A shudder ran up dread spine. For years his mother hand ranted and raved about the sorcerer Merlin Emrys. For years he wondered why his mother hated the sorcerer so much. Only recently did he begin to believe it was due to his participation in the death of her father and the forced marriage of her mother.  
Mordred was broken out of his musings by Gareth continuing their explanation.  
"Arthur will execute any sorcerer or sorceress that Merlin believes is dangerous, or practicing dangerous arts. We feel the only reason why Mother is still alive is because Arthur pities her."  
"The point is." Gawain said finally. "Will do not believe it would be wise to reveal dread talent with magic. Merlin hates our mother just as much as she despises him. He would do anything if it meant hurting her in any way."  
"So please," Agravaine finished. "Be careful."  
The two youngest brothers nodded gravely.  
As the brothers walked back to the rest of the part, Mordred thought over what his brothers had told them.  
The lives of the sorcerers of Britain were controlled by one man. He knew this was not right. After all, no one was perfect. And considering what his father had told him about Merlin, he was hesitant to trust the old Sorcerer. Mordred concluded that he would have to be careful when around Merlin.

When they finally arrived in Camelot, Mordred could do little more than stare at it's grandeur.  
Towering spires, glistening walls, flags with the Pendragon crest flapping in the wind... It was all so beautiful.  
Upon reaching the gates, dread attention was court by something which could have possibly rivalled Camelot in it's beauty.  
A regal looking woman stood there, in one of the finest gowns Mordred had ever seen. Her head was adorned with a golden circlet. This could only be one woman. Queen Guinevere.  
When Arthur reached her, he dismounted from his horse, took Guinevere's hand in his own, bent down and kissed it.  
"My beloved." He said. "It is truly joyful to be back in Camelot. Almost as great as it is to be back by your side."  
"Your words flatter me." The Queen replied.  
Though the Queen appeared to be talking to Arthur, Mordred noticed that her gaze also flickered to the knights. Or, more specifically, Sir Lancelot, Arthur's first knight and closest friend.  
Mordred decided to ignore it, for now.  
Queen Guinevere glanced over to where he and his brothers stood. Her brows furrowed.  
"I was under the impression that you would be returning with only one new companion. And yet I see two new faces?"  
Arthur cleared his throat.  
"Yes, well. As you recall, Morgana and Lot have five sons, with the two youngest only being a year apart in age. The youngest, Mordred..."  
He gestured toward Mordred.  
"Wished to be with his brothers, as well as to prevent his mother from suffering to long with the dread of loosing her sons."  
For a second, the Queen's face was marred by suspicion. However, it was quickly replaced by yet another charming smile.  
"Well, I welcome boy Gaheris and Mordred to Camelot. It will be a pleasure to have you here."  
"The pleasure is all mine, my Lady." The two replied at the same time.  
With the pleasantries out of the way, the party was soon led into Camelot.

Mordred had just organised his belongings in his new chambers. He was at a lose as for what to do.   
Gawain and Agravaine had both gone to talk with some of the friends they had made in Camelot. Gareth had offered to show both he and Gaheris around the castle and surrounding grounds. While Gaheris had accepted the offer, Mordred had declined, as he felt his time would be better spent organising his chambers. He now wished he had followed his third and fourth brother, as then at least he would now have something to do.  
Finally, he decided to have an explore of the magnificent castle by himself.  
Camelot was truly a grand place. While his home in Orkney was firm and tuff, , Camelot was more soft and eloquent. There were many portraits and tapestries, displaying beautiful artwork. Almost every room and corridors was flooded with light.  
He was just walking through one of the lush gardens, when he was suddenly nocked over.  
"Ooof." He said, falling to the ground.  
"Ahh..." Said another voice.  
Mordred looked up to see a girl around his age, lying diagonal on top of him. He could not help but blush.  
"I'm sorry." He said, embarrassed.  
"No, no." The girl replied, finally getting off of him so that he could sit up. "It is I who should be apologising. My mind must have drifted again..."  
"No, it's okay. I should have been watching where I was..."  
He trailed off as their eyes met. She was beautiful. All so mysterious. Her eyes were full of life and a strangeness to them.  
Mordred cleared his throat.  
"My I?"  
He extended his arm. The girl took it and they stood up together.  
When their skin first made contact, Mordred had felt a jolt go straight through his body. It was as if he were struck by lightning.  
The girl examined him.  
"I do not believe I have seen you before." She said, a dreamy tone to her voice.  
"I... I have only just arrived here." He replied. "I am Mordred."  
The girl looked at him curiously.  
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, my lord." She replied.  
"Please," He said. "Just call me Mordred."  
He had never liked it when he was addressed with any form of noble title. It made him feel uncomfortable.  
"Well, Mordred," She said cheerfully. "My name is Nimue."

Harry suddenly jerked awake. He scrambled for his journal and pen. After retrieving these things, he quickly turned on his bedside lamp.  
Not once since these dreams began, did he remember anyone's names. All that remained in his memories were the images and basic ideas of what occurred during these dreams.  
But now... Now was different. He could actually remember one of the person's names. Oh, and what a name. Just thinking about it made Harry feel so many emotions. Happiness, sorrow, regret... All and so many more were swimming around in his head.  
Finally, he turned to a new page. He usually tried to be chronological when it came to his dreams, as he believed this would greatly assist in finding any meaning behind his dreams.  
However, this time, he began with the name. The name which had not come until the very end of his dream.  
Nimue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're in Camelot. This is going to be fun.  
> I obviously had to change who's names Duddley taunted Harry with, as Harry was not having the same dreams. But seeing as all if not most of these names are not exactly common modern day names. And as Duddley isn't exactly one of the sharpest tools in the shed, he would of course mispronounce them.  
> Harry's beginning to decode his dreams, but unfortunetly he only has the vaguest idea of events and the most messed up lullaby ever made. What did you think of this idea? I wanted Harry to problem solve, instead of just being moody about the dreams. But he still has a tempter.  
> Mordred is in Camelot now... Bumping into people.  
> Thanks for reading.


	6. Secrets of the heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of life in Camelot for Mordred. Errr... Has anyone given Mordred The Talk yet? If not then somebody should really get onto that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to organize an update skedule. But I'm currently sik and it's Christmas. But hopefully by the new year I'll have something figured out.

Chapter 6:

It had been a few weeks since Mordred had arrived in Camelot. For the most part, his experience had been enjoyable. He could once again train with all of his brothers.   
Gawain, Agravaine and Gareth had taken it upon themselves to train their youngest brothers in basic combat. However, they were also able to ask other nights if they could teach them some specialized methods of fighting. Mordred found this especially beneficial, as he had had to practically teach himself his own style, derived from the basic training his father had given him. Many of the nights had been surprised with his preference towards more agile techniques, as the rest of his brothers relied more on bruit strength.  
He had also spent a considerable amount of time with Nimue.  
Over the past few weeks, they had seen each other everyday. During this time, Mordred had learnt more about her. She was the daughter of Vivien, the lady of the lake, as well as one of Guinevere's handmaidens. This greatly interested Mordred. While he was not entirely sure sure of Lady Vivien's age, he knew that she had been the fostermother of Sir Lancelot, who was two years older than Arthur. Nimue, on the other hand, was a year younger than himself.   
Most of his confusion was cleared when Nimue explained that her mother had been in her early days of womanhood when she had fostered the infant Lancelot. Whereas she was born during the last years of her mother's fertile years. While this cleared most of his confusion, it also surprised him, as it was rare of woman to survive a birth so late into their life, and still produce a healthy offspring.  
Something which was more disconcerting about Nimue, was that she was the apprentice of Merlin. Mordred had yet to see the old sorcerer, whom his mother hated so much. Nimue explained that he was off on one of his adventures. Apparently, Merlin was known to frequently disappear for weeks on end, in search of new knowledge and magical creatures. While Mordred was relieved to not have met him yet, he also wish that the sorcerer would just return and get the initial meeting over with. He hated the feeling of not knowing where Merlin was or when he would return, as he was afraid that Merlin would declare he was preforming illegal magic and have him executed, or worse. However, he was also not looking forward to having to constantly be on his guard. Therefore, his feelings were rather ambivalent as to weather or not he wanted Merlin to return.  
Nimue was not the only topic of discovery in Camelot. Mordred had suspected it from the first moment he had entered Camelot. He had managed to fool himself into believing that it was his mind playing tricks on him. However, as time went on, it became ever more obvious. He was honestly surprised no one else had noticed it.  
Hence, why after approximately four weeks of being in Camelot, Mordred gathered his brothers into his chambers, where they were insured privacy, and broached the topic with them.  
As he sat in a chair, facing his brothers, he fidgeting nervously and cleared his throat.  
"I am afraid that there may be a problem in Camelot. I... I am not sure if anyone else has noticed this but... I suspect that... There is an affair occurring between Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere." He said, blurting out the last few words.  
Gaheris seemed to be the only person who appeared shock. The rest of his brothers, Agravaine especially, seemed quite uncomfortable. Finally, Gawain cleared his throat.  
"Yes, well... They are not exactly being that subtle about it."  
Mordred blinked.  
"So you are aware of the affair?" He asked in disbelief.  
"Well," Gareth said, fidgeting. "Technically, everyone is aware of it... Except for Arthur."  
Both Mordred's and Gahers's jaws dropped.  
"What do you mean?" Asked Mordred.  
"And why has no one thought to inform Arthur of this?" Gaheris continued. "After all, wouldn't this affair count as as adultery and treason?"  
Again, the three older brothers glanced at each other uncomfortably.  
"There are a few things that the two of you must understand." Gawain began. "Arthur, adores Guinevere. He would do anything for her."  
"And Lancelot is Arthur's closest friend." Gareth continued. "If Arthur were to learn that the two people he loves most in the world are having an affair behind his back... The results would be catastrophic. Arthur would be crushed."  
"Hence, everyone in Camelot has agreed to keep this a secret from Arthur." Agravaine finished.  
Mordred starred at his second brother.  
"You seem to not like this agreement Agravaine."  
Agravaine pursed his lips.  
"As Gaheris said, this affair is both adultery and treason. Both are horrific crimes on their own. To commit both of them is absolutely despicable. If it were up to me, they would have faced trial long ago."   
He shook his head and sighed.  
"However, Gareth is also correct in saying that Arthur would suffer greatly if he were to learn of their crimes. Therefore, it is in britain's best interest if this affair remains secret."  
Mordred pursed his lips.  
This was not right. Lancelot and Guinevere should not be getting away with this two of the worst crimes imaginable. They should be properly punished for such an acts.  
However, it was also true that Britain needed it's king. If Arthur were to learn that his beloved wife was having an affair with his closest friend behind his back, then he may not be able to muster the emotional strength needed to rule and defend his land.  
Inside of him, Mordred's morals warred with his sense of duty towards Britain.  
He glanced toward Gaheris. The two of them seemingly communicated purely through the use of facial expressions. Finally, they both came to an agreement that neither of them liked.  
"Fine." Gaheris began, sighing.  
"We'll keep the secret." Mordred finished.  
All three elder brothers took on an expression of relief.  
"Thank you." Gareth sighed.  
"You will see that this is for the best." Said Gawain, surprisingly gentle. "Despite his s floors, Lancelot is a great knight, and has none much for the benefit of Britain."  
Mordred nodded, seemingly agreeing with his brother. Internally however, he was still warring with his emotions. He hoped that he had made the right decision.

Mordred was walking through the halls of Camelot, when he spotted Arthur talking to a hooded figure.  
It had now been three months since Mordred had first arrived in Camelot. Prior to these months, Arthur had always looked at him with suspicious eyes. Mordred had always assumed it was due to how close he seemed to be to his mother. While Arthur did not out right hate his half-sister, he was still suspicious of her, due to her reputation with less than acceptable magical practices.  
However, as the months went on and Arthur observed Mordred more and more, he seemed to become more trusting of his youngest nephew. Instead of greeting him with suspicious glances, Arthur greeted him kindly, as he did the other sons and Lot and Morgana.  
Mordred did not wish to interrupt the high King's conversation. Hence, he attempted to quickly and silently walk away. However, Arthur had spotted him out of the corner of his eye. He turned to Mordred, a smile on his face.  
"Mordred, how are you this fine morning?" He greeted warmly.  
"I am fine Sir." Mordred replied respectfully. "How do you fare?"  
"I am well." The king replied.  
He turned to his companion.  
"Ahh, I do not believe the two of you have met. Mordred, this is more friend and greatest adviser, Merlin Emrys. Merlin, this is my youngest nephew and newest trainy, Mordred of Orkney."  
The figure turned to face Mordred. Under his cloak was an old face with long white hair and a beard to match. His eyes met Mordred and a jolt went up the younger's spine. For a long time, they just starred at each other, unblinking. Finally, Mordred broke the standstill.  
"It is a... A pleasure to meat you... My lord.." He said. "My apologies for interrupt your conversation. I am afraid I must cut this meeting short, as I was planning to meat with my brothers in the training yard."  
And with that, he fled the scene.  
Once he was a few corridors away, he finally exhaled the breath he did not know he had been holding.  
So, this was the famous, and infamous, Merlin Emrys. The sorcerer whom Arthur trusted to insure the land remained safe from dark sorcerers, by dictating what kind of magic was practiced.  
The sorcerer who had assisted Uther in tricking his way into his Grandmother's bed.  
The sorcerer whom his mother hated more than any other.  
Despite all of this, Mordred found that none of these were the reason why he felt uncomfortable in Merlin's presence. No, there was something... Dark in that glance. While Arthur's expression had been a combination of many different emotions, none of them had been the pure, unbridled hatred that existed in Merlin's eyes. Mordred had no clue as to why the court Sorcerer hated him so. He had given Merlin no reason to. Perhaps it was because of who his mother was. After all, from what he had heard Merlin hated his mother just as much as she hated the sorcerer.  
Mordred shook his head. It was best not to dwell on it.

He was sitting in a deserted courtyard with Nimue. They were both practicing magic together.  
Mordred was at first hesitant to show Nimue that he could use magic. His brothers' warning still range in his mind. However, he quickly came to trust her. So, he had revealed his hidden talent to her. To his great relief, she merely smiled and said:  
"Well, it took you long enough to tell me."  
It turned out she could sense his magic the first time they had touched, and she was only waiting for him to become comfortable enough to tell her.  
Since that day, they had met in secret almost every night to practice magic together. Much to Mordred's surprise, Nimue was interested in all branches of magic. Mordred had assumed that she would be more inclined to the magic that her teacher, Merlin, approved of. But instead, her curiosity led to her seeking other forms of magic.  
She explained that the majority of magic that Merlin allowed her and other sorcerers under him to learn mostly healing and defensive magics. However, Nimue wished to learn more.  
Hence, they would meet in private with magic books that Mordred's mother had given him. He kept all of his magical artifacts and books hidden by use of a cloaking spell, and securely at the bottom of his trunk.  
It had now been a full year since they had first met, and they were almost through all of the books, finding what interested them and what did not. Some of the spells were to dark, even for Nimue's curious mind. Others were to dangerous to practice, as they would risk discovery by practicing them.  
They now lay in the grass, side by side and looking at each other.  
"My brothers and I shall be leaving upon the morrow." Mordred said quietly. "We will be returning to Orkney to visit our father and mother."  
Nimue smiled at him. He had already explained that the annual journey to Orkney was approaching. But he still liked to repeat it. So much had changed since he had left. He had learnt so much, both in combat and in magic.  
He had also grown closer to Nimue. The bond they shared, it was more than mere friendship. He did not know what to call it. All he knew was that he would gladly die for her, just as much as he would die for any of his brothers.  
Nimue gently touched his cheek.  
"Be careful." She said.  
He grinned.  
"Am I not always careful."  
She nudged his shoulder.  
"You know what I mean. I am aware that I have never met your mother, but something in me is saying that her head is full of wrackspurts."  
Mordred chuckled. They had invented a sort of secret code, between themselves.  
"Yes, just as many as Merlin. So I hope you be careful."  
Nimue nudged his shoulder again.  
"Just remember, when you return, I expect the nargles will have a surprise for you in our usual place."  
Mordred grinned.  
"The nargles might want to find a knew hiding spot. Someone might discover them."  
"Lets hope not."  
They both chuckled and lapsed into silence.  
"Mordred?" Nimue finally said.  
"Hmmm?" Mordred replied.  
"May I give you something... A parting gift?"  
He opened his eyes.  
"Yes, what is..."  
Mordred was cut off when Nimue pressed her lips against his.  
For a few seconds, he just lay there in shock. Finally, he reacted. He placed a hand behind her head and depend the kiss. It seemed to last for both a few seconds and an eternity. Finally, they parted for air. Their breaths were heavy.  
"That was..." Mordred began.  
"Incredible." Nimue finished.  
Mordred nodded, smiling.  
"So... Can we do that again?"

As Mordred and his brothers rode up to the familiar gate, he could not stop the bubbling excitement. As much as he had come to love Camelot, there was still no place like home.  
He took a deep breath, smelling the familiar Orkney air. He could hear the sounds and warriors, blacksmiths and the general chatter. He could see the fields and forests of his childhood.  
Once they entered the gates, he could see his father and mother, awaiting their return. For once, Arthur and his usual entourage had not accompanied them, so it was only the five brothers.  
As soon as they were within a few feet of their parents, his mother went straight to him.  
As Mordred dismounted his horse, she wrapped her arms around him. As she embraced him tightly, he realised he was now the same high as her.  
"Guileless son." She said, smiling. "You have grown so much since last we met."  
Mordred smiled.  
"It is good too see you again mother."  
As his mother released him from the embrace, his father cleared his throat.  
"Well, I hope you have been using your time in Camelot wisely." He said in way of greeting. "Tell me, have you actually learnt to fight, or do you insist upon dance during combat situations."  
Mordred chuckled.  
"Oh, do not be so stubborn father. Everyone has their own way of fighting. Some are just more... Graceful than others."  
The whole family chuckled.

Later that night at dinner, the brothers were tell their parents of their year in Camelot. Their mother had seemed to become anger when Mordred told her of his first meeting with Merlin, so he quickly told her of how he was being careful around the sorcerer and changed the subject.  
Mordred and Gaheris had just finished explaining their combat training.  
"Well," Began their father. "It appears the two of you have had an eventful year."  
"And we have not even gotten to Mordred's lover yet." Gawain spoke up, a little to loudly, in Mordred's opinion.  
Said brother's face become quite warm, all of a sudden.  
"I... I do not know what you speak of Gawain." He stuttered.  
"Oh, don't you?" Gawain asked, his eyebrow raised.  
Mordred looked to his other brothers for support. He found none.  
"Yes, I have noticed you have grown close to a certain girl." Gareth continued.  
"What was her name again?" Gaheris said, tapping a finger against his chin.  
"I believe her name is Nimue." Agravaine finished.  
Mordred's face was now flaming.  
"Oh," His father said. "And who his this Nimue?" He asked of Mordred.  
"She is the daughter of Vivien, the Lady of the Lake. She is also one of Queen Guinevere's handmaidens and... Ummm... Merlin's apprentice."  
There was a loud clatter. They all turned to see that his mother had dropped her wine goblet. The look she sent Mordred was one he had never received from her. Pure fury.  
"I thought I told you to stay away from that thrice cursed sorcerer." She practically growled.  
Mordred flinched, but was quick to come to Nimue's defense.  
"Mother, Nimue is not Merlin. While she is learning under him, she is not blindly loyal to him. I trust her, even if you do not." He said, clearly.  
Thankfully, his brothers banded with him.  
"We have all seen Nimue." Gaheris continued. "And we have also seen how she interacts with Mordred. We believe that she is trustworthy."  
His other three brothers nodded in agreement.  
Finally, his mother's glair moved away from him, to be instead aimed at her plate where a trickle of wine had leaked onto it. Thankfully, the majority of her spilled drink had gone onto the table.  
"Well," Began his father after a long pause. "I suppose, if all of you believe she is trustworthy, that this may continue. However, Mordred, do remember not to become to... Intimate... With her."  
Mordred's face became warm again, much to his brothers' amusement.  
"Yes, father." He mumbled in embarrassment.  
His brothers laughed joyfully. Eventually, Mordred joined in. There was truly no place like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Any questions and comments will be welcome. Feedback helps me improve.


	7. Reverlations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has strange feelings around certain people. Mordred learns some things about his past.

Chapter 7:  
Harry was sitting in the court room located in the bowls of the Ministry Of Magic. In this currently on trial for breaking the restriction for underaged sorcery. He and Mr Weasley had just done a mad dash all the way down here, as they had only just a few minutes ago learnt that the time of his trial had been changed.  
He was not feeling so confident, as he knew that Fudge would do anything to discredit him, all because the minister refused to listen to him and Dumbledore. Still, Harry thought that Fudge was being a little over-dramatic about the whole thing. Yes, the law needed to be upheld. Harry could understand that. But this, was just overkill. Surely someone in the Ministry thought that maybe this was a bit ridiculous. But then Harry remembered that common sense and wizards did not seem to go together very well.  
Harry refocused as Fudge began the hearing.  
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, "into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.  
"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley..."  
"Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."  
Harry stiffened. He turned in his seat to see that Dumbledore had entered the room. For some reason, this caused a myriad of emotions which Harry had never associated with the sight of the old wizard. Fear, anger and hatred were only a few.  
Harry had no idea why this was. The thoughts kept him distracted for most of the trial. The only time he was stirred from his thoughts was when he was asked if he could truly conjure a caporal patronus.  
When the hearing was over, Harry felt an inordinate amount of relief, which only increased when Dumbledore disappeared. Harry still did not know why Dumbledore caused such a reaction inside of him. Maybe it was because Harry had been angry towards the wizard and him being responsible for Harry's annual torment via Dursley imprisonment. He really did not know.  
He had been feeling strange emotions towards a lot of people lately. But this was the first time he felt so much hatred. This was all confusing to Harry. Even more than his dreams.  
The majority of his dreams now seemed to be focused on the mysterious girl, Nimue. Even thinking of that name caused Harry to feel unbridled emotions, such as sorrow, joy, regret, pain, and many more he could not place. And try as he might, that name still remained to be one of the only features which he could remember.  
When he had first arrived at Grimuld Place, and learnt that he would be sharing a room with Ron, he had asked the adults if any of them knew how to make it so no one would hear any noises he would make in his sleep. He claimed that it was due to a snoring problem he had developed during the summer. The twins however, had other ideas. They had asked if his nights had been "Haunted by a beautiful ghost?". This caused Mrs Weasley to go off at them about inappropriate questions. Harry just laughed it off. Mainly because Fred and George were sort of correct, though maybe not in the way they expected.  
The truth was that he did not want anyone learning of his dreams. It wasn't that he didn't trust them, it was just that he felt as if these dreams should remain a secret, at least for now. Considering that Dudley had claimed to hear Harry yelling in his sleep, he really didn't want to risk anyone hearing any form of sound he made at night. Thankfully, Sirius was able to put a privacy ward around Harry's bed. So now he could sleep without fear of Ron or anyone else hearing him screaming names from his dreams.

He was fifteen now. Mordred had been living in Camelot for three years. Over these three years, he had changed a lot.  
His combat technique had improved to the point where he was on par with all of his brothers, even Gawain. Many in Camelot compared his style of fighting to Arthur himself. Both had lean bodies, and preferred a more agile and fluid form of combat.  
Occasionally, when he wasn't busy, Arthur would even spar with him. In these sparing sessions, a bond seem to grow between them. This bond was strengthened through their interactions and observations of each other.  
While in the beginning, Arthur did not trust him, over time he began to seem more relaxed around Mordred. At times he would even confide in him. Though Mordred could see that there was something that Arthur was still holding back.  
In turn, Mordred began to see Arthur as less of an unjust tyrant who was the product of deception and betrayal, as his mother would have him believe, and more of the king whom inspired all of Britain. He truly cared for Britain it it's people, and wanted on the best for them. This only caused Mordred to support Arthur more.   
The only problem was that Arthur was extremely restrictive over what kind of magic was permitted. Whenever Mordred asked why he was so strict with this policy, Arthur would always deflect the question, or change the subject.  
Another relationship that had been steadily growing over the past few years was his relationship with Nimue.  
The two had grown extraordinarily close. They told each other everything, from their fears, to their hopes and dreams of the future. They continuously met every night, learning all sorts of magic together. Sometimes they even created their own spells.  
Their love had not gone unnoticed. Only a few days after they officially began courting, Lady Vivien had visited Camelot to cess the young man whom had captured her Daughter's heart. Mordred had been polite towards her, but not overly so. Mordred did not want Vivien to think he was attempting to suck up to her. Thankfully, Vivien gave him her approval, but gave a very dire warning of what would happen if he were to ever hurt Nimue in any way. Outwardly, Mordred smiled at the sorceress and said honestly that he would sooner die than purposefully hurt Nimue. Inwardly, he thought that she seemed more terrifying in that moment than his mother in the worst of her moods.  
Merlin, however, seemed less approving. Mordred did not know why, but no matter what he did, Merlin seemed to absolutely hate him. While he did not trust Merlin, considering what the old sorcerer had done, he was also wary around him, as one wrong move could spell his doom.  
His brothers were extremely supportive of the relationship. Gawain would constantly ask if the two of them had been intimate, and then give Mordred advice on just how to please a woman. This would cause Mordred to turn red in embarrassment and splutter that they had never been more intimate than kissing.  
Gareth, in contrast, was telling him to be careful and to not advance the relationship to quickly. Gaheris enjoyed teasing him about it, in all good fun of course. At other times, he would be the one describing what would happen if Nimue ever hurt him.  
At first, Agravaine was skeptical that this relationship would last. However, now that he has seen how close the two have become, he was now pleased that his brother was so happy. He had even offered to write to both their father and Lady Vivien, to ask if they would consider a betrothal between the young lovers, as they were both reaching marital age. Mordred had replied by saying that he would consider it, but he would not agree unless Nimue felt comfortable with the idea.  
Overall, their relationship was largely accepted, for the most part.  
Much to Mordred's ever-growing sadness, his mother did not approve of Mordred's continued interaction with Nimue. He did not know why, but his mother seemed to hate her. This upset Mordred, as he and his mother used to be so close. Now however, this continued hatred of Nimue was causing Mordred to feel torn. Every time he attempted to persuade his mother that Nimue was good and the right woman for him, his mother would reply with increasingly angered letters.  
Thankfully, Nimue was there to comfort him. She would be there to hold him in her arms and wipe away his tears.  
Nimue never said anything against his mother. She did not seem to react to the insults targeted towards her. However, the same could not be said for how it hurt Mordred. Nimue however, had a good grasp on her temper. Otherwise Mordred feared that half of Camelot would go up in smoke.  
No matter what anyone said, Nimue and Mordred were inseparable.  
Now, they both lay in their usual field. They were in the middle of reading some of the newest books that Mordred had received from his mother, when he noticed that Nimue's face was scrunched up in concern.  
Mordred closed the book and laid it down in his lap.  
"Is there something wrong?" He asked her.  
Nimue briefly looked up from her book.  
"Oh, no, no." She said, unconvincingly.  
Mordred, being sure not to drop the book on the ground, moved over to Nimue and laid a hand on her shoulder.  
"Nimue," He said seriously. "I can tell that something is bothering you. Please, tell me."  
Nimue sighed and placed the book in her lap.  
"It was a careless mistake." She said. "I do not know how I could have been so careless."  
Mordred's eyebrows scrunched up in concern.  
"What happened?"  
Nimue drew in a deep breath and sighed.  
"Guinevere accidentally court me practicing magic. Magic which was not approve of by Merlin."  
Mordred's palms began to sweat.  
"What are we going to do?" He asked, fear beginning to blossom in his stomach. This was not good. There was no telling what Guinevere would do.  
Nimue sighed.  
"I somehow managed to convince her to keep my secret. Do not worry, I did not say anything of you."  
Mordred wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.  
"I do not care what she knows about me. All I care for is your safety."  
Nimue smiled and pecked Mordred on the lips.  
"Do not worry, the Queen of Camelot is good at keeping secrets."  
"That is what concerns me." He replied. "As one who keeps too many secrets is hardly one to trusted."  
She placed a comforting hand on his cheek.  
"Do not worry." She said. "Nothing will keep us apart. Even if one of us was to die, are souls are intertwined."  
"But what if you do die?" He asked.  
Nimue shrugged.  
"Sometimes, you cannot go against what is written in the stars."  
Mordred grasped her hand tightly.  
"Unless we rewrite them, to say that you will be mine forever."  
Nimue shook her head.  
"No one can rewrite the stars."  
Mordred grinned.  
"It's not impossible."  
Mordred kissed her.  
"And I will do that for you."  
Nimue smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes.  
"As I said, our souls are intertwined. Not even death can change this."

For the next few weeks, Mordred was on edge. He was constantly worried that Guinevere would suddenly burst out that Nimue was practicing dark magic.  
Nimue continuously attempted to calm him down, with mixed results. She insisted that Guinevere would not betray her. While it was true that Guinevere was close to her handmaidens, it was also true that Guinevere was not someone to be trusted. After all, what kind of a woman would have the nerve to betray Arthur Pendragon by having an affair with his closest friend behind his back?  
Mordred could feel a storm brewing. He did not know when, and he did not know how, but he could sense that something was going to happen. An event which would change his life forever. And Mordred hardly thought that it would be for the best.  
His fears came to fruition about a month after his and Nimue's conversation.  
It was an early morning. The sun was just rising in the sky and the world was only just waking up. Everything seemed peaceful. However, it was not to last. For the peace was broken by a sudden explosion.  
Mordred quickly dressed and ran down to the source of the commotion. Only to be met by a large crowd, blocking his path.  
Using his agile and flexible movements, he wove through the congregated onlookers, only for the sight which met him to freeze him in his tracks.  
In one of the courtyards stood two figures. They were Merlin and Nimue. The older sorcerer's body radiated anger, like a blazing inferno. Nimue on the other hand, stood still and serenely. However, her eyes portrayed her true feelings of distress.  
"I should have known." Merlin growled. "I should have known that that, spawn of Morgana, would corrupt you."  
Niue's gaze flicked briefly to Mordred.  
"Mordred," She said calmly. "Has nothing to do with this. I have been learning completely independently of anyone else."  
"You willingly delved into dark magic?"  
Nimue's eyes met Merlin's.  
"Magic is not separated by light and dark. It is not the kind of spell that is used that makes a sorcerer evil, but the intention behind it. And you, Merlin Emrys, are a dark sorcerer. For you are deceitful, manipulative and controlling. You have restricted what we can and cannot do, thereby weakening us."  
Merlin spat.  
"It does not matter what you think, you foolish girl. You have broken the law, and therefore must pay for your choices with your life."  
"No!" Mordred could hear his voice yelling. He could not comprehend this. Nimue couldn't die. He had to do something.  
He looked to Arthur. He met the king's eyes. After only a few seconds, Arthur looked away.  
He turned to Guinevere. The Queen's head was bent in shame.  
He knew he had to do something. He was a powerful sorcerer in his own right. Maybe if he and Nimue banded together, they could overpower Merlin.  
He hadn't taken two steps when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
"Mordred, no."  
He turned to see Gaheris, an expression of concern on the older brother's face.  
"Ris, please." He begged.  
Gaheris shook his head.  
"We can't."  
Mordred attempted to break free from his brother's grasp. He couldn't let Nimue die. He could see the two fighting. Nimue was holder her own, but she couldn't keep it up forever. Eventually, she will tire. Mordred knew that, for all of Nimue's talents, she was no match for Merlin.  
Mordred could feel another hand grasp his arm. He looked to see Gareth.  
"Let me go." He growled.  
His brothers only shook their heads.  
He thought against their grips. However, while he was agile, both Gaheris and Gareth were much stronger than he was. But that did not stop him from trying.  
However, just as Mordred felt his brothers were tiring of having to keep a grip of him, he felt a sudden pain on the back of his head. As his world turned dark, his gaze flashed to where Nimue was still fighting Merlin. Their eyes met, and Mordred could not help but feel a tear come to his eye.

When Mordred woke, he had a pounding headache. He opened his eyes s blearily to see that he was back in his bed, with his four brothers sitting in chairs, surrounding him.  
"Mordred," Began Gaheris. "You are awa..."  
He was interrupted by Mordred's fist impacting with his face.  
"Why?" He croaked out. "Why did you stop me?"  
The four brothers looked at each other. Finally, Gareth replied.  
"We had to Mordred. If you had gone into that courtyard, you would have revealed your magic to all of Camelot and both of you would be dead."  
"I don't care!" He yelled. "I needed to do something. I couldn't just... Just let her die."  
Gawain sighed, for once completely serious.  
"Mordred, you are our younger brother. It is a duty to protect you."  
"Then why didn't you protect her?" Mordred said, his heart in agony.  
The four brothers exchanged looks. Gaheris went to place a hand on his shoulder, but the younger brother shoved it away. Finally, Agravaine spoke.  
"Last night, Nimue came to us saying that she had had a dream. In this dream, she for saw that Guinevere would betray her trust and tell Merlin of her practices. So she came to us and requested that we'd vow to shop you from coming to her defense."  
Mordred clenched his fists.  
"Why did you listen to her?"  
"Because we all wanted to protect you." Gaheris explained. "And we all knew that if Nimue was in the slightest danger, then you would try to help her. But that would only be putting yourself in danger. Mordred, please... We all..."  
"Shut up." Mordred spat. "Just... Just shut up."  
He took a deep breath.  
"So, is she... Is she truly...?"  
Mordred was holding onto hope that Nimue had found a way to escape Merlin. His hopes were dashed when his brothers shook their heads.  
"Get out." He growled.  
"What?" Gaheris asked, blinking.  
"Get out!" He yelled. "If you truly loved me as you claim, then you would have thought beside me to save her. Get out! Get out!"  
His four brothers quickly got up and retreated to the door. Gaheris made to turn around, but one look at Mordred and he was slowly leaving the room with the rest of his brothers.  
Mordred curled into a ball, and cried.  
The tears came like ran and flowed like rivers down his face. All of his pain, grief, anger, was channeled into his tears.  
She was dead.  
The thought rang in his mind like a thousand bells.  
She was dead. Gone. No longer in this world. Nimue had said their souls were intertwined. But what had that meant?  
He should have been stronger. He should have used his magic to throw his brothers away. He should have instantly ran to Nimue's sighed and helped her fight Merlin. Even if they were unable to defeat him, they could have escaped into the wild. Maybe they could have sort sanctuary with Lady Vivien. Surely she would protect her daughter. Maybe they could have even went to his mother. No matter how much she hated his choice of lover, she would always protect him.  
His thoughts turned to Arthur. How could he be so cruel? How could he allow the death of a girl, barely in her womanhood, to be executed for seeking knowledge? Mordred thought that he had come to know him quite well over the past three years.  
In anger, his thoughts turned to Guinevere. Mordred knew she couldn't be trusted. He knew it was her who betrayed Nimue.  
Eventually, Mordred cried himself to sleep, the last image in his mind that of Nimue.

He woke again to a hand shaking his shoulder.  
"Mordred."  
He turned to see Arthur, sitting on the side of his bed. Mordred sat up and pushed the King's hand aside.  
"My lord." He said, all of the usual respect absent from his voice.  
Arthur's face showed no anger from his disrespect. Instead he appeared concerned.  
Why hadn't he been concerned for Nimue?  
Mordred asked himself bitterly.  
"I am sorry, for your lose." He began. "Nimue was truly a kind young woman."  
Mordred scoffed.  
"Then why didn't you stop him from... From murdering her?"  
Arthur frowned.  
"Mordred, I cannot make exception to my own laws, no matter how close the guilty part is to members of my family."  
"Guilty?" Mordred found his anger growing. "What is she guilty for? For seek knowledge beyond what is taught by that old fool? For wanting to be free to learn as she wished?"  
Arthur seemed to grow angered.  
"She was practicing dark magic..."  
"Dark magic?" Mordred retorted. "What would you know of magic? The dribble which is said by a sorcerer whom tricked a woman into sleeping with her husband's enemy? A sorcerer who willingly did the bidding of a tyrant who began a conflict with his friend over his lustful desires?"  
"That is enough." Arthur said forcefully. "Your heart is grieving. You do not know what you speak of."  
"Oh, don't I?" Mordred retorted. "Then how about you give me some answers, oh wise king."  
"Merlin only wants what is best, for the greater good."  
Mordred could only feel himself becoming more infuriated. The greater good? How could killing an innocent girl be for the greater good?  
"I put such tight restrictions on the practice of magic for the good of Camelot and all of Britain."  
?Why?" He asked furiously. "Why do you hate magic so?"  
"Because of what your mother did to me!"  
Silence suddenly came to the room. Finally, Mordred broke out of his shock.  
"What... What did my mother do to you?"  
Arthur rubbed his temples and sighed.  
"I suppose that you would have only discovered this sooner or later."  
The king sighed again.  
"I was as old as you are now, when I first became High King of Britain. I was young, and I wanted to improve the land I was now responsible for. When I had learnt of the story behind my conception... Well, I was disgusted by my father's actions and decided I would attempt to reconcile. I contacted my newly discovered sister, attempting to build some sort of bond with her. Morgana, however, was unwilling, to say the least. She absolutely hated me, and blamed me for our mother's death. She said that the blood of Pendragon was a stain upon the world. Despite this, I continued to try and mend bridges between the two of us."  
"Every year I would invite her to Camelot. She would come with her husband and young children. But she would find any excuse to belittle me."  
Mordred listened attentively, but had a hard time believing his mother could be so cruel.  
"At my wedding to Guinevere, she had an argument with my bride-to-be. Apparently, Guinevere approve of Morgana openly disrespect both myself and Lot in front of the court. Morgana retorted by saying that Guinevere would bring the land to ruin with her selfish desires. While this was troubling, the true travesty happened the following year."  
"Just after the birth of Gaheris, Morgana returned to Camelot. I should have suspected something. She seemed to polite, to cheerful. Part of me feared the worst. However, another part of me felt that I had finally broken through my sister's ice-cold shell. However, it was not to be. My fears came to fruition on the final night of her stay. I am not sure what spell or potion she used. All I know is that the next morning, I woke to see not my wife in my bed, but my own sister."  
Mordred's eyes widened. His mother wouldn't.  
Arthur sighed and continued.  
"Neither of us said a would to each other. She just left, without even an explanation or an apology. I thought that that would be the end of it. However, a few months after the act, Merlin came to me. He told me that he had for seen my downfall, and that it would come at the hands of a child born of both Uther and Gorlois. I believe you are intelligent enough to to find the implications."  
Mordred could hardly think. This couldn't be. His father was Lot, King of Orkney. It was not possible that his father could be...  
Then he thought of how different he was to his brothers. While they were large and bulky, he was thin and lean. While they relied on brute strength to win battles, he relied more on agile movements. Still, he needed to hear it to believe it.  
"Am I?" He asked, terrified for the answer. "Am I the result of... Of that night?"  
Arthur sighed.  
"At first, it was impossible to know from who's seed you were born from. Merlin did not wish for me to take any chances. He told me that I had to ensure you would not be a threat to the future by killing you as soon as possible, even if it meant ending you in the womb. He informed me that Morgana would most likely birth you in secret. So he urged me to send for every babe that was born on the predicted day of your birth, and have you sent to see to let the elements have you."  
"And did you?" Mordred asked.  
Arthur's eyes were wide.  
"No." He said. "I could never do such a cruel thing to an innocent child. Not even for Britain."  
Arthur sighed.  
"Over the coming years, I kept a closer eye on Orkney. When I learnt that you had began your combat training, I decided to invite Gawain to Camelot. I did the same thing with all of your brothers. I wished to gain an idea of who you truly were. I feared that your mother was manipulating how viewed both myself and the people of Camelot. But I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw your loyalty to your brothers."  
He placed a hand on Mordred's shoulder.  
"You are truly a good person Mordred. I can see that. At first I intended to try and undo any damage that your mother had done. But as time went on, I began to care deeply for you. Now that you are older, it is easier to see a resemblance between the two of us. However, regardless of weather you are my Nephew, or that and my son, I still care for you. Do not let your mother corrupt you. I know of how much you care for her. But please, listen to my words."  
"She intends to use you for her plans of vengeance. It is almost to perfect, is it not? She hates me for supposedly killing a parent, so she seeks for me to suffer the same fate. And at the same time, the grandson of Gorlois is avenging what was done by Uther Pendragon, long before either of us was born."  
Mordred could feel tears coming to his eyes. His mother couldn't. But things began to make too much sense. Why she favoured him. Why she insisted he learn to use magic. Their conversation, the day before he had first left for Camelot.  
"Mordred?" Arthur asked, concerned.  
Mordred looked up.  
"I'm sorry." He said weakly.  
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Arthur replied. "You are not at fault for your mother's actions."  
Mordred took a shuddering breath.  
"What now?" He asked.  
"Now," Arthur said, "We ensure that the fate that was predicted to us does not come to fruition."  
Mordred sighed.  
"But if it was predicted..."  
"We do not have to let such prediction control our actions."  
"No one can rewrite the stars." Mordred muttered miserably.  
Arthur squeezed Mordred's shoulder.  
"We will see." He said.  
The High King got up and left the room.  
Mordred's thoughts were racing. The product of incest. A child predicted to be Arthur's downfall.  
Mordred closed his eyes in an attempt to prevent more tears from escaping. How could his mother do such things?  
His thoughts moved to the warning that his father... Lot, had given him the night before he first left for Camelot.  
"Do not give into her manipulations."  
He blinked back more tears.  
If only Nimue were here.  
He thought.  
She would have the right words to say. She would wrap her arms around him and hold him close. She would whisper words of comfort into his ear and tell him that everything would be alright.  
But she couldn't. She was dead. And it was all because of one individual.  
Mordred now understood why Arthur was so strict with magic. He supposed that, in time, he could forgive him. However, there was one thing he could never forgive. Guinevere had betrayed Nimue's trust. And for that, she had to pay.  
As Mordred lay in his bed, the song which his mother always sang to him flowed through his head:

Guileless son, your spirit will hate her,  
The flower who married my brother the traitor,  
And you will expose, his puppeteer behaviour,  
For you are the proof of how he betrayed her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly hard to write. Poor Mordred. I wish I could say things are going to get better, but...  
> How did I do? How well do you think I convayed how Mordred was feeling? What about the interaction between Mordred and Arthur?  
> I'm trying build a strong relationship between the two of them, so that the conflict between them is all the more tradgick.  
> Feel free to comment. Thanks for reading.


	8. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred does something which begins a chain of evts no one could have prodicted.

Chapter 8:

Harry bolted straight upright. He was drenched in sweat and panting heavily. The sheets of his bed were twisted around his legs.  
In the dark he groped around from his glasses. Once he had put them on, he saw the sun was just beginning to rise beyond the horizon.  
He turned to see that Ron was still asleep. He was thankful, yet again, for the privacy wards around his bed.  
He quickly grabbed is journal and pen. In the light of the rising sun he wrote about his latest dream.  
In the past, his dreams had often been filled with joy, sadness, anger, fear, and every emotion in between. Yet this most recent dream... It was truly tragic. The amount of despair that he was currently feeling was just the same as when he was around dementors, possibly even more. And even as the fine details faded from his mind, the definite cause for his grief was clear.  
Nimue was dead.  
Even the mere thought of those three words caused his eyes to blur with unshed tears. He did not know why a dream of all things would cause him to feel this way. It was only a dream. Nimue wasn't even real. It was all in his head.  
So why did Harry feel this way?  
Harry sighed. Yet another mystery that has to do with his dreams.  
Harry decided to take his mind off of it, by turning to the back pages of the journal. In these pages, he wrote the only other thing from his dreams that seem to remain as clear as it was from the moment Harry woke. The strange song which the mother sang to him. Now, he had yet another verse.

Guileless Son, your spirit will hate her,  
The flower who married, my brother the traitor...  
It sounded as if she was talking about the Queen. For some reason, the mother did not like the Queen. And frankly, Harry couldn't blame her. Though he couldn't remember exact details from his dreams, many of the people involved still caused him to feel different emotions. And whenever Harry thought about the Queen from his dreams, he felt nothing but distrust for her. However, that has now changed.  
Harry could remember that his dream self blamed the Queen for Nimue's death. He did not know exactly why. All he knew was that the Queen had betrayed Nimue's trust, and that she was responsible for her death.  
And now, with this song, it sounded as if the mother wanted him to hate the Queen.  
Harry rubbed his temples. This was only getting more confusing.

Mordred was hiding in the shadow of the forest just outside the walls of Camelot. He wore a black cloak, so that it would be harder for anyone to see him. He knew that complete secrecy was the only way to ensure his plan's success.  
It had been two months. Two months since Guinevere had betrayed Nimue's trust by tell Merlin that the younger woman was practicing forbidden magic. Two months since the only woman he had ever loved was killed because she wanted to be free to practice whatever magic she wished.  
The memory of her face, her eyes and how they had stared straight into his own without any fear, still brought tears to his eyes.  
The morning after all this had occurred, Mordred had set off with her body to the Lake of Avalon, where she could have a proper burial with her mother. He had half expected Sir Lancelot to accompany him. Technically speaking, he he and Nimue had been foster siblings, even if they were separated by twenty years in age.  
However, the knight had opted to stay in Camelot, as apparently he wished to assist Queen Guinevere in grieving for her lost handmaiden.  
Mordred scoffed. Guinevere did not deserve to grieve for Nimue. If not for her, then Nimue would still be alive.  
Once Mordred had reached the Lake of Avalon and the small cottage that Lady Vivien called home, the old Sorceress was waiting on the doorstep, as if she was expecting him. Without a word, she walked over to Mordred and enveloped him in a tight embrace.  
Mordred had feared she be furious, blaming him for not being able to protect her only daughter. But instead, she was embracing him and crying into his shoulder. When he had apologised to her, Lady Vivien had merely told him that he was not a fault, and that Nimue would not want him to blame himself for her death.  
Together they had buried Nimue in a field of flours, right near the shore of the lake. The funeral had been quiet, with only the two of them there. It had been done just as the moon this rising. Mordred could still remember the short conversation he had had with Vivien once the funeral was finished.  
He had been looking at the moon reflecting off of the lake. It was full and bright. Nimue had always loved the moon. She admired it's subtle beauty when compared to the blinding sun, and how it was going through a constant cycle.  
Mordred had been broken from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He had turned to look into the eyes of Vivien. The were exactly like Nimue's. The only difference was that a lifetime of knowledge lay in the older woman's depths.  
"Do not worry Mordred." She had said. "Nimue is still with you. She has never left you and never will. Your lives are intertwined. One day, you will see each other again."  
Even now, these words still echoed in his head.  
When Mordred had returned to Camelot, the first thing he did was find his brothers and apologise for him snapping at them. He was most apologetic to Gaheris, as he deeply regretted punching him. Now that Mordred was thinking rationally, he knew that his brothers' were only trying to protect him, as they had always done for each other.  
Mordred could understand this, and forgave them. In turn, all four of his brothers forgave him for how he had reacted towards them. They knew that he had been blinded by grief at the time, and so was acting irrationally.  
He was thankful that he and is brothers could forgive each other so easily. He could even forgive Arthur for having such strict rules on magic, especially after what he had learnt from the High King.  
Mordred was still skeptical about the story. More specifically, the part concerning his heritage.  
He found it hard to believe that King Lot was not his father. It was just unimaginable. He knew that, while his father was stern, he still loved him just as much as the rest of his brothers.  
But then again, this could explain a lot of things. Why he looked so different to his brothers. Why he preferred a different form of combat to his brothers. Why his mother fathered him over the rest of his brothers.  
It was still all confusing.  
Regardless of this, he could still forgive Arthur for the small part he played in Nimue's death. After all, how was he to know that this would happen? Mordred knew that Arthur was only doing what he thought was best for Britain.  
However, there were some he could not forgive.  
Merlin Emrys was one of them. This sorcerer had done so much, hurt so many people. Yet, he had yet to face justice for his crimes. He knew that Merlin was too powerful and too influential. The sorcerer was virtually untouchable.  
However, their was someone at fault who could be touched. Queen Guinevere. And Mordred knew exactly how to make the Queen fall.  
Guinevere had revealed Nimue's secret. So it was only fare that she too, has a secret revealed. Mordred was going to expose Guinevere's affair with Lancelot.  
He was at first hesitant to do so. He knew that, if Arthur were to learn that his closest friend and his beloved wife were having an affair behind his back, the knowledge would destroy him. Mordred did not wish to hurt Arthur. He still cared for and respected the High King, despite his floors. He also knew that, if something were to happen to Arthur, then all of Britain could very well be facing catastrophe.  
The memory of Nimue and how Guinevere had betrayed her strengthened his resolve. This had to be done, for Nimue.  
So Mordred had waited. He knew that Guinevere and Lancelot were most active when Arthur was away. So Mordred had wait until Arthur was called away. Finally, only a week before, Arthur had been called away to settle a border dispute between two lesser Kings.  
The first night after Arthur's departure, Mordred was hiding in an alcove just outside of Arthur and Guinevere's bed chambers. He had not expected Lancelot to pay the Queen a visit on the very first night. He had expected to have to wait a few nights. But it appeared that, as soon as Arthur had left Camelot, Guinevere and Lancelot were ready to fall into each other's arms.  
Mordred had instantly ran to his chambers for a quill and parchment. He quickly wrote a letter, telling Arthur that he needed to return to Camelot at once. He had given the letter to a messenger and waited for Arthur's return.  
So now here he was, waiting for Arthur to return. He wanted to intercept The High King before he reached Camelot, as he didn't want Guinevere and Lancelot to hear of Arthur's return.  
Finally, he heard the approach of hooves. Through the trees he could see a lantern bobbing in the distance. It was being held by a lone figure on horseback. He could see by the flickering light that it was Arthur.  
Mordred stepped out of the shadows and lowered his hood. Instantly, Arthur pulled on the reins of his horse, startled by Mordred's sudden appearance.  
"Mordred!" Arthur said in shock. "What are you doing? I could have very well trampled you!"  
"My apologies Sire." Mordred replied. "However, secrecy was needed."  
"Yes, well..." Arthur dismounted his horse. "What is this urgent problem that I needed to see."  
Mordred steeled his nerve. He knew that after this, there was no going back.  
"I am afraid that, in your absence, there has been a Haynes crime."  
"Oh," Arthur replied. "And what is this Haynes crime?"  
Mordred sucked in a breath. This was it.  
"Treason, Sire."  
"Treason?" Arthur asked. "Surely Guinevere, or Sir Lancelot could deal with someone who has committed treason."  
"That would be difficult Sire." Mordred replied. "For you see, Guinevere and Lancelot are the ones guilty of treason."  
For a long time, Arthur was completely silent.  
"This... This cannot be true." Arthur said finally, his voice laced with anger. "You are mistaken."  
"I am afraid it is true Sire." Mordred replied.  
"But they would never..."  
"If you wish for proof, then follow me."  
So, after tying the reins of Arthur's horse to a tree, Mordred led the High King through Camelot in silence. They walked through darkened passageways until they reached the royal bedchamber. Even with the closed doors, both could hear the sounds emanating from the room.  
"No." Arthur muttered. "This cannot be."  
Mordred put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder.  
"See for yourself Sire."  
With shaking hands, King Arthur opened the door.  
Mordred looked down. He did not wish to see the look that was surely on Arthur's face.  
Suddenly, he could hear the clashing of swords. Mordred looked up to see that Arthur and Lancelot were engaged in a fierce duel, while Guinevere was huddled in a corner, tears streaming down her face. Mordred could only watch as the two mighty warriors clashed. They were equals in combat. If not for the circumstance, Mordred would have admired both of their fighting prowess.  
Finally, the duel ended when Arthur slipped on the bedsheets, which was half trailing along the floor. Lancelot slashed at his face, causing a deep cut. Then the fallen night crabbed Guinevere and quickly helped her put on her sleeping robe.  
Mordred was about to stop them, but then he noticed that Arthur was bleeding heavily on the floor. He could choose to either run after the lovers or tend to Arthur. On one hand, if he didn't go after Guinevere and Lancelot, then they would most likely escape. On the other hand, if Arthur was just left there, it would be unlikely a healer would get to him in time. This would mean that Arthur would die.  
Without hesitation, Mordred ran to where Arthur lay on the floor. As he knelt by the High King's side, he could hear Lancelot and Guinevere running through the corridor behind him, but he did not care.  
He knew that what he was about to do would reveal that he knew magic. He knew that this could likely lead to his death. But Mordred was willing to take the risk. He had not intended for Arthur to die. He had only wanted to make Guinevere pay for betraying Nimue. This was not mean! to happen.  
Mordred looked at Arthur, blood coating both his face and the floor. Salty tears mingled with the coppery blood. Mordred could feels tears of his own in his eyes.  
"I am sorry." He muttered. "I had not intended for this to happen."  
"You did... What was right." Arthur said weakly. Mordred could hear that utter despair in the High King's voice.  
With shaking hands, Mordred placed his palm against Arthur's wound. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a spell for healing. While healing spells were not his speciality, he was still proficient enough in them.  
Mordred saw the wound partially mend itself. Now it looked like a mere shallow cut. Mordred then proceeded to use his magic to clean the majority of the blood from Arthur's face. Finally, the High King was healed enough to be taken to the castle healers.  
Arthur stared at him in shock.  
"You... You are a..."  
"Yes." Mordred replied. "Now come Sire. We need to get you to the healers."  
Mordred help Arthur to his feet and allowed the older man to sling an arm across his shoulders, using the younger man as a support. Together, they walked to the healers' quarters.  
"I assume your mother taught you." Arthur said.  
Mordred sucked in a breath.   
"Perhaps."  
"Why did you keep this so secret?" Arthur continued.  
Mordred sighed.  
"Before I first came to Camelot, my elder brothers informed me of Merlin's hatred for our mother and how it was he who decided what kind of magic could and could not be practiced. We were afraid that, due to his hatred of our mother, if he were to learn of my talents then Merlin would be quick to condemn me."  
There was a long silence. Finally, Arthur sighed.  
"I can understand. I am sorry you had to hide such gifts."  
"It is alright, Sire." Mordred replied.  
The rest of the journey was in silence. They both had had an emotional night.

Two weeks had pasted since Lancelot and Guinevere had fled Camelot. Since then, Arthur had been searching tirelessly for the lovers who'd betrayed him.  
In had not taken long for the rest of Camelot to discover that it was Mordred who had revealed the secret that they had all been hiding from Arthur for years. Many hated him, as they were strong supporters of Lancelot. Others however, congratulated Mordred on having the bravery to do what they had been afraid to. Mordred remembered being approach by Sir Kai, Arthur's Forster brother. The man had shaken his hand and thanked him, saying that he had never trusted Lancelot and "That Harlot Guinevere", and that neither were worthy of his Forster brother affection. He had said that he had done the right thing.  
Another surprise supporter had been Galahad, Lancelot's own son who was the same age as Mordred himself. Mordred had only ever spoken to him in passing. However, he knew that there was no love lost between Galahad and his father. Still, it had been a surprise when the young man had approach Mordred and thanked him for revealing Lancelot's shameful acts. He could still remember it.  
Mordred had been walking through the corridors, on his way to one of the training yards, when he was approach by Galahad.  
"Mordred, wait!" The young man had yelled, running up to him.  
Mordred had turned.  
"Galahad?" He had asked. "Did you want something?"  
"Only to thank you." Galahad replied.  
Mordred blinked.  
"Thank me?"  
"For revealing Sir Lancelot's affair with Queen Guinevere." Galahad elaborated.  
Mordred had been shocked.  
"Is he not your father? Why would you be thanking me for making your father a wanted man?"  
Galahad looked down.  
"Though he is my father, he is my source of shame." He had muttered. "I am thankful for what you did. What he was doing was not right. I am glad you had the courage to do what many, including myself, could not."  
Mordred looked down.  
"That is what I keep telling myself. And yet, I feel guilt, for I no it has hurt our King."  
Galahad had put a hand on Mordred's shoulder.  
"You are not at fault for how King Arthur feels. The pain that our King feels was caused by Lancelot and Guinevere."  
Mordred smiled. He had always thought that Galahad seemed a bit self righteous. Now however, he was actually beginning to like this man.  
"Well, thank you for your kind words. I was headed to the training yards. Would you like to come spar with me?"  
Galahad smiled.  
"It would be my pleasure."  
This had been the beginning of a strange and unexpected friendship. Mordred only wished that his relationship with his brothers was going as smoothly.  
Gawain refused to talk to him. His eldest brother still admired Lancelot, even after all that he had done. Gaheris had been angry at him, as they had all promised each other that they would not reveal the Affair. Gareth had told him that, while he had done the right thing, there would still be many negative consequences from this reveal.  
The only brother that did not seem upset with him was Agravaine, who had told him that he himself had been close to revealing the truth to Arthur, but was afraid of the consequences.  
Mordred missed his brothers. They used to be so close. And now they were torn apart, and Mordred could not help but feel it was all his fault.  
Now, he was walking to King Arthur's private study. He did not know why he had been summand by the High King, only that it seemed urgent. Hence why he did not hesitate in walking to meet with him. Mordred knew that it would not be wise to leave the High King wait. Especially considering the mood that he had been in since he had discover the betrayal.  
Nervously, Mordred nocked on the door.  
"Sire?" He asked.  
"Enter." Came the voice of Arthur.  
Hesitantly, Mordred opened the door. Arthur sat behind his desk, going through some documents.  
"Mordred, please, come sit."  
Mordred walked over to the desk and sat in the chair opposite of Arthur's.  
"You summoned me Sire?" He asked.  
"Yes." Arthur replied. "I require something, very important of you Mordred."  
Mordred blinked.  
"What is it, that you ask of me Sire."  
Arthur sighed and laid down the documents.  
"My spies have found Lancelot and Guinevere."  
Mordred could hear the grief that was still dominate in Arthur's voice.  
"I with a select band of knights and solders will depart for Francia in a week's time." He continued.  
"Do you wish for me to accompany you?" Mordred asked.  
Arthur shook his head.  
"Nay. I shall be gone for a long time, for the trek is long. In the past, whenever I have gone on a long journey, I could always trust that my Kingdom was safe under the careful rule of either Guinevere or Lancelot. Now however, I have neither. Someone must rule in my stead."  
"I am afraid I do not understand Sire." Mordred said nervously.  
"What I am saying," Arthur replied. "Is that I wish for you to rule Camelot while I seek out Guinevere and Lancelot in Francia."  
Mordred blinked, stunned.  
"Surely there is someone else, who is far more qualified to rule Camelot in your absence."  
Arthur shook his head.  
"I have no heirs, as of yet. Camelot has no proper line of succession."  
"What of Gawain?" Mordred asked. "As he is the eldest son of your sister, surely he would be next in line?"  
Arthur sighed.  
"While Gawain is popular among the people, and a mighty warrior, he is still a strong supporter of Lancelot. I would not trust him with the throne of Camelot."  
"Then what of Agravaine? Gareth? Gaheris? They would be in the line of succession before me."  
Arthur shook his head.  
"While they may be my sisters sons, they are not my son."  
Mordred blinked. It was finally dawning on him what Arthur was implying.  
"You don't even know if I was conceived from that one night with my mother. Speculation is hardly a basis for declaring heirships."  
"It is more than speculation." Arthur retorted. "While you are as Raven haired as your mother, everything else about you resembles myself at your age. And it is more than that. I can feel in my heart that you are my son Mordred. While I am disgusted by what your mother tricked me into doing, I am not ashamed to admit that I am proud of what resulted from that night. It is you, who I wish to rule in my absence. And it is you, who I wish to make my heir."  
Mordred shook his head.  
"You may be willing to accept it, but you do not speak for the rest for Camelot, or the rest of Britain. If we were to reveal the supposed truth of my heritage, then they would only see me as your bastard son, born of incest."  
"I did not say that I would reveal your true heritage." Arthur retorted. "Only that I wish to make you my heir."  
"And how will you explain that you are declaring your sister's fifth son your heir, as apposed to her first or even second son?"  
Arthur sighed.  
"The affair between Lancelot and Guinevere, it was truly a horrifying discovery. After further thought, I realised that this must have been occurring for quite some time."  
Mordred looked down.  
"By revealing the truth to me," Arthur continued. "You have done both myself and the Kingdom a great favour. Therefore, to return the favour I shall be rewarding you by declaring you my official heir."  
Mordred shook his head again.  
"There are still many who will not accept this."  
"And I do not care." Arthur retorted.  
Arthur suddenly learnt forward and grasped Mordred's hand. Their eyes met and Mordred could see the seriousness in Arthur's blue depths.  
"I loved Guinevere, with all of my heart. Lancelot had been my truest friend. After their betrayal, I do not know who to trust. I feel as if you are the only one I can trust."  
Mordred had to blink to stop the tears.  
"I know that I ask much from someone so young."  
"Were you not my age when you drew Caliburn from the stone?" Mordred suddenly asked.  
"Yes, that reminds me."  
Arthur suddenly let go of Mordred's had and got up from the desk. The High King walked over to a cabinet which held something wrapped in a thine cloth. Arthur opened the cabinet and retrieved the object. He walked back to where Mordred still sat and placed the object on the desk. Carefully, he unwrapped the cloth to reveal a gleaming sword.  
Mordred blinked. This couldn't be. This couldn't be The Sword.  
"Is... Is this...?"  
Arthur nodded.  
"This, is Caliburn. After Lady Vivien gifted me with Excalibur, I had planned to keep this safe until my heir was ready to wild it. Now I give it to you. That is, if you accept the position as my heir."  
Mordred looked down at the sword.  
"I... I am deeply honored Sire. But I... I couldn't. I do not feel worthy of being the he heir to such a great King."  
Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.  
"I believe you worthy." He said gently. "I have watched you grow from a kind boy to a strong and loyal man. There is no one I would rather be my heir."  
Mordred had to yet again blink away tears. After a long time, he finally made a decision.  
With trembling hands, he reached over and grasped Caliburn. He stood and held the sword in his hand for a long time. Arthur handed him it's scabbard. He then buckled the scabbard to his belt and sheathed the legendary sword.  
"May this sword serve you well, Sir Mordred."  
Mordred bent to one knee.  
"I swear, I will do my best to serve you and all of Camelot and Britain, my King, my Uncle... My Father."  
Arthur grasped his shoulder.  
"I know you will."

Just the next day, Mordred was officially declared Arthur's legitimate heir. Though this should have been a momentous occasion, the celebration was short. Many congratulated him, while others, primarily the Lancelot supporters, glared at him hatefully.  
Whenever Mordred tried to look at Gawain, his eldest brother averted his eyes. This caused Mordred's heart to ache.  
A few days later, Arthur had departed to Francia, leaving Mordred to rule Camelot.  
Mordred stood, staring at the throne. He did not know if he should sit in it or not. On one hand, him sitting in the throne may make the courtiers take him more seriously. On the other hand, it may also make him seem like a usurper.  
Mordred was just contemplating this, when he heard someone approach him. He turned around to see Gawain walking towards him.  
"Gawain." He greeted. He did not honestly expect an answer. After all, his eldest brother had not spoken a word to him since Lancelot and Guinevere's affair was revealed.  
"So, should I start calling you high Prince?" Gawain said, grinning.  
Mordred blinked.  
"Almost two weeks of silence, and that is what you say to me?" Mordred asked, incredulously.  
Gawain shrugged.  
"It was an honest question."  
Mordred sighed.  
"Gawain, I do not even think there is such a thing as high prince. And even if there were, you would still be my brother as you always have been and as you will always be, so there is no need for you to address me as anything besides my name."  
Gawain chuckled. Then, all humor left his face.  
"We need to talk."  
Mordred raised an eyebrow.  
"Yes, I do believe that we need to talk."  
For a long time, the two brothers merely looked at each other. Then, finally, Gawain broke the silence.  
"I am sorry." He blurted out.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"For almost two weeks, I have not been acting as a brother should. I let my feelings of idealisation towards Lancelot turn me against you. Though, I do not believe that you revealed Lancelot's affair with Guinevere for the noble reasons that Arthur and the rest of Camelot seem to think. And I believe it has something to do with Guinevere."  
"Oh?" Mordred said, raising an eyebrow.  
He could feel his palms begin to sweat. He had not told his brothers of how Guinevere was involved in Nimue's death. He knew that if they did, then they would try to keep him as far away from the then Queen as possible. That would greatly hinder him in his vengeance.  
So how could have Gawain found out that it was to make Guinevere pay for her betrayal of Nimue?  
"It is mother's influence."  
Mordred blinked.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Mother. She hates Guinevere, and she has influenced you into hating her too." Gawain elaborated.  
"You truly think that?" Mordred asked, shock.  
His brother merely nodded.  
"Do not worry, I shall not tell anyone. But brother, I beg of you, do not let mother influence any more of your decisions."  
"I won't." Mordred replied. "I assure you brother, I am perfectly capable of making more own decisions, without anyone else's influence."  
"We shall see." Gawain replied. "We shall see."

Three weeks after Arthur's departure, a company bearing the banner of Orkney arrived in Camelot.  
Mordred stood just outside of the gates to great the party, flanked by his brothers. Over the past few weeks, they had been slowly coming back together. While things were still tense, Mordred thought it was a great improve.  
As the lead carriage stopped a few metres away from where they stood, Mordred saw their father exit, supporting the flail figure of a woman.  
Wait... This could not be...  
"Mother?" Mordred breathed in shock.  
His mother seemed to gain some energy.  
"Let me go, I can walk."  
She pushed away from from their father and attempted to walk over to him. However, she could barely get a few step; before she stumbled. Mordred instantly ran to catch her.  
"Ahh, Guileless Son." She said, smiling.  
Mordred helped walk his mother over to his brothers.  
"My sons." She said, still smiling. "Oh, it is good to see you once again."  
The four brothers exchanged looks. Their mother had hardly ever shown this much affection for any of her sons, excluding Mordred. Gareth was the first to act.  
"Mother, what is wrong with you?"  
They looked to their father.  
"Father?" Gawain asked.  
Their father sighed.  
"Your mother is ill. We do not know how..."  
"Is there anything we can do?" Mordred asked desperately.  
"I am afraid not." Their father replied.  
"Come mother." Mordred said. "You must rest."  
Mordred ordered a servant rush to arrange a room for his mother. Slowly, he helped his mother into Camelot.

It was strange, Mordred thought, to see his mother so fragile, so vulnerable. He had always seen her so strong, so powerful. Only to be reduced to this.  
His mother was pale, gaunt, sickly, as if a single gust of wind could bow her over. It caused Mordred's heart to ache.  
He and the rest of his brothers were sitting around her bed. She had been strangely loving to all of them. She congratulated Gawain on how strong he had become. She complimented Agravaine on his intelligence. She smiled when she spoke of how Gareth had truly come out of his shell. She proudly boasted of Gaheris's loyalty to his family.  
It was strange, as she had never shown this much affection for anyone save Mordred.  
Finally, she made the request that they knew was coming.  
"Please, leave me. I wish to speak to Mordred in private."  
All five brothers exchanged looks before all but Mordred got up and left the room. Once they were alone, his mother smiled at him.  
"Guileless Son, how you have grown."  
Mordred grasped his mother's flail hand in his own.  
"Mother, please." Mordred said desperately. "Is there anything I can do? Any way to help you?"  
His mother smiled.  
"It is my time Mordred. No spell can stop it now."   
With a shaking hand, she stroked his hair.  
"While it is sooner than I would have liked, I am wise enough to know that once I am gone, the plans I have set in motion shall continue."  
Mordred was concerned. What plans could she be speaking of?  
"What do you mean, Mother?"  
"Hah... Oh, nothing that you need concern yourself over, Guileless Son."  
Mordred shook his head. Even when she was dying, his mother still spoke in riddles. Mordred decided to change the subject.  
"Mother, a few months ago... Arthur told me of something... Something which I am having trouble believing..."  
His mother raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Mordred decided to push on.  
"I need to know, who... Who is my father?"  
His mother chuckled.  
"So, you finally know that truth."  
Mordred sucked in a breath. He need to know for sure. He felt as if his mother could be the only one to confirm it in his mind. While at the same time, he was afraid that, by hearing it from his mother's lips, it would all be true.  
"Am I... Am I truly the son of Arthur?"  
The smile and the stroke of his hair were the only things needed to confirm Mordred's fears. The tears which had been holding back ever since he first saw how weak and fragile his mother had become suddenly came flooding out.  
"So it is true." He breathed out. "I am nothing more than a bastard, born of incest."  
His mother hushed him.  
"Oh, no. Guileless Son, you are so much more. You will be the one to correct the injustices committed by the Pendragon line."  
"Mother," Mordred said. "Please, do not ask me to go against Arthur. He... He is not Uther. He holds no guilt for his father's crimes."  
His mother smiled bitterly.  
"And what of his crimes?"  
Mordred sucked in a breath.  
"I did not ask for your mother to die in childbirth."  
His mother shook her head weakly.  
"I do not speak of that, Guileless Son. I speak of the crime he committed, just after your birth."  
Mordred furrowed his eyebrows.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Just before your birth, I had to hide far away from Orkney. I was constantly pursued by Arthur's solders. Finally, just after your birth, they caught up to me. I was still weak from childbirth. I attempted to hide you within the roots of a tree. However, just in case they found you, I cast a spell so that I could find you."  
"And so you obviously did find me."  
His mother shook her head.  
"And so I did. However, you were in a fishing boat, surrounded by the corpses of firty-nine dead infants, all born on the same day as yourself."  
Mordred blinked.  
"If you are saying that Arthur is at fault..."  
"Oh, he is at fault." His mother retorted.  
MORDRED shook his head.  
"He told me..."  
"He obviously lied to you." His mother replied.  
Mordred could not believe what he was hearing. Could Arthur truly be capable of this?  
"I know that it is hard, Guileless Son." His mother said comfortingly. "But do not worry. You shall correct the wrongs committed by Arthur Pendragon and his father before him."  
Mordred blinked.  
"How?"  
A smile stead his mother's face.  
"Arthur has given you the power. He has made you his legal heir. You can now take the throne and set Britain free from the claws of the Pendragon."  
Mordred shook his head.  
"I cannot betray my King."  
His mother smiled and grasped his hand.  
"Oh, Guileless Son. Ever so loyal."  
Her expression turned dark.  
"But tell me, do you not think that there is something about Arthur's rule which is unjust."  
Mordred thought for a second. There was really only one thing he disagreed with.  
"He is too strict with laws concerning magic." He said.  
His mother smiled.  
"Yes. He and that sorcerer Merlin have a choke hold on the magic of Britain. Magic was not made to be held in chains. It was made to be as free as the wind."  
She grasped his hand tightly.  
"That is the only thing which I approved of concerning that girl, Nimue. She too, could see the truth. I thought she was brave, learning illegal magic right under Merlin's noise."  
Mordred blinked. His mother had never complimented Nimue before. She had always shown nothing but distrust for her.  
"Think about Nimue." She said weakly. "She is only one of many who have lost their lives, all because they wanted to be free."  
Mordred blinked away the tears in his eyes.  
"What will you have me do?" He asked weakly.  
His mother smiled.  
"Set our people free... Set magic free..."  
And they were the final words he ever heard from his mother.

Later, Mordred was passing in the throne room, his mind a well-wind of thoughts and emotions. All that had been said between himself and his mother echoed through his mind. He had no idea what to do. Should he do as his mother asked, and betray his King? Or should he remain loyal to Arthur, whom he had sworn his life to.  
Loyalty, loyalty...  
He thought of Nimue, of the image of thirty-nine dead infants. How many more had been the victims of Arthur's rule, inadvertantly or not?  
Loyalty, Loyalty, loyalty...  
He looked at where Caliburn hung at his hip. Arthur had said he trusted Mordred before all others. The poor man had suffered enough betrayal. Mordred knew that Arthur was a great King, who only wanted what was best for all of Britain. Though some actions could be questionable, Mordred knew that Arthur had a good heart.  
Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty...  
He sat on the throne. He too, only wanted what was best for Britain. But perhaps what was best for Britain was not what Arthur thought. Perhaps, his mother was right and magic needed to be set free.  
Only to me...  
Mordred made his decision. He would fulfill his mother's dying wish. He shall set free the magic of Britain from the chains placed upon it by Merlin Emrys and Arthur Pendragon. For Britain. For Nimue. For his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was a long chapter. So what did you think?  
> I might have snuck in a few quotes from The Trial Of Lancelot, another song by Heather Dale, who is the brilliant artist behind Mordred's Lullaby, the song I have been using in almost every chapter. I highly recomend listening to some of her songs, they are amazing.  
> Poor Mordred, everything is happening at once. This guy really needs a hug write now.  
> Questions and comments are welcome. Feedback helps me improve and positive comments inspire me to right more.  
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Darkness Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred attempts to do the right thing. Unfortunately, what he believes is the right thing is not the same as what Arthur thinks is that right thing.

Chapter 9:

The day after their mother's death, they had her body cremated. It was what she wanted, as she was paranoid about sorcerers using her body parts for rituals.  
The five brothers had planned to go with their father to Cornwall, to spread her ashes in the place she had called home in her early years, before her father was killed by Uther. However, Mordred regrettably could not leave Camelot. Arthur was still in Francia, and it did not seem as if he would be returning soon. Tintagel, the fortress which used to belong to his Grandfather Gorloise and where his father and brothers had planned to stay during their time in Cornwall, was too far a journey. Mordred had no one he could put in his place. And in any case, he had plans to make, and many, many things to do.  
So with a heavy heart he watched his father and brothers leave with the party from Orkney and his mother's ashes. He had to hold back his tears. He did not wish for his people to see him cry. He could not let them see him weak.  
Finally, he turned from where the party was just disappearing beyond the horizon, and entered the doors of Camelot.  
He quickly walked through the halls of Camelot and headed for his chambers.   
After he had become Arthur's official he heir, he had been awarded new bed-chambers befitting his new rank. Technically, they were Arthur's old chambers. The King had had to move to new sleeping quarters, as he could not stand to sleep in the same bed where the two people he had trusted the most had betrayed him again and again. So they were given to Mordred.  
Mordred had at first been hesitant, but eventually he had gotten used to them.  
The room was much larger than his old chambers had been. On the wall opposite to the door was a large glass door which led to a balcony. Mordred admired the view from the edge of the balcony. Every morning he could now walk out to see a large field which the people of Camelot called Camlann. It was truly a beautiful site. Mordred could see why Arthur had chosen this as his bedchamber upon his first arrival in Camelot.  
Arthur had gifted him with a new bed, as the High King had ordered the old one burnt. Whenever Mordred lay in his bed, he felt as if he were lying upon a cloud.  
Now, Mordred went straight past the bed and onto the balcony.  
He could feel the sun shining upon his face. He could smell the breeze. It was nearing Autumn now. Soon it would be time for the harvest to commence. Everything seemed peaceful. Everything seemed normal.  
Only it wasn't.  
Mordred still could not believe that his mother was truly dead. She had once been so strong, so beautiful. And now she was gone. Just like Nimue, she was gone.  
Mordred clenched the top of the short wall surrounding the perimeter of the balcony which came up to his waist.  
He had loved two women in his life. And now they were both gone.  
Mordred could not hold back his tears. As he wept, he thought about the last words that his Mother had said to him.  
"Set our people free... Set magic free..."  
He knew what he had to do, but he didn't think he had the strength to do it. He did not know who to trust.  
In the past, he knew he could always trust his brothers. However, he did not know if they would stand by him in this.  
Mordred knew that, if he were to take the throne for himself, then many would see him as a usurper. What he was contemplating would be viewed as treason. But he had to do it. The magic of Britain had to be set three.  
But Mordred needed help. And for the first time in his life, he felt completely alone.  
Suddenly, Mordred was broken out of his thoughts by a nocking at the door.  
"Who is it?" He asked, turning to face the door.  
"It is I, Sir Mordred."  
It was Galahad. He and Mordred had become quite good friends over the past few weeks, ever since Mordred had revealed the affair between Sir Lancelot and the former Queen Guinevere. Mordred thought it was ironic, considering that Galahad's father, Sir Lancelot, had been good friends with Arthur, Mordred's biological father.  
"Galahad, please, come in."  
The young man stepped into the bedchamber and walked to where Mordred still stood on the balcony.  
"I have come to see how you are." He said gently.  
"I am fine, though my heart still bleeds for my mother." Mordred replied.  
Galahad laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
"I am truly sorry for your lose. Truly, it is sad when the woman whom birthed you leaves this world. I can still remember when my own mother died."  
Mordred sucked in a breath.  
"I am sorry."  
"Don't be." Galahad replied. "This was a long time ago, when I was but ten years of age."  
Mordred looked down. He could not imagine loosing his mother at that age.  
"I am surprised you did not accompany your father and brothers to Cornwall." Galahad continued.  
Mordred looked up.  
"I wished to go. But alas, I am bound by chains of duty to Camelot."  
Galahad smiled bitterly.  
"They appear to be stronger on you than they are on King Arthur."  
Mordred sighed.  
"And unlike our great King, I do not have the luxury of someone whom I trust to take my place for a long period of time.  
The two stood in silence for a long time. Finally, Mordred spoke.  
"If you do not mind me asking, how did your mother die?"  
He was concerned that he had asked too much of Galahad. But then, his friend sighed and answered.  
"She was executed by Merlin for the practice of dark sorcery."  
Mordred blinked.  
"Really?" He asked, intrigued.  
Galahad sighed.  
"It is a long tail."  
"Would you mind me hearing it?" Mordred asked.  
Galahad shook his head.  
"No, no. It is fine."  
Galahad walked back into the room and sat on the bed. Mordred followed and sat next to him.  
"My story begins long ago. For you see, my mother was deeply in love with Lancelot. Many women were. Unfortunately, he only had eyes for one."  
"Guinevere." Mordred said bitterly.   
Galahad nodded and continued.  
"This was at a time when Guinevere was loyal to Arthur, when her duty to her King and husband overruled her desire for Lancelot."  
"My Mother always told me that Lancelot grew so envious, that he began to fulfil his..."  
Galahad cleared his throat.  
"... Sexual desires, with other women. Mostly with my Mother."  
"And did your Mother... Consent, to Lancelot's attention?" Mordred asked hesitantly.  
"Of course." Galahad replied. "She adored Lancelot. But he did not return her affections. My Mother grew envious of Lancelot's love for Guinevere, and so she ended the affair. However, she was already with child when she ended the relationship."  
"You." Mordred breathed, looking at Galahad.  
His friend nodded.  
"Growing up, my Mother would always tell me that my Father was Sir Lancelot, the Queen's champion and greatest of Arthur's knights. I grew arrogant, believing that, just because my Father was Lancelot, that this made me better than anyone else."  
"When I was ten, my Mother brought me to the court of Camelot. In front of Arthur, Guinevere, and all of his knights and courtiers, my Mother declared that she wished for me to learn to be as mighty and as strong of a warrior as my Father, Sir Lancelot Du Lac."  
"I remember the shocked silence. Then I remember the mutters. I remember the stares. I remember the shocked expression of Guinevere, morphing quickly to anger as she looked at Lancelot. I believe that at this time, the two had begun their affair. Lancelot had tried to deny my Mother's claims at first. However, he could not deny it when Arthur had ordered Merlin cast a spell to determine my heritage."  
Galahad sucked in a breath.  
"It did not take me long to learn of Lancelot's affair with Guinevere. Indeed, it was my Mother whom revealed it to me. She had told me that what Lancelot was doing was treason. Disgraceful. Sinful. She had planned to reveal the affair to Arthur. However, before she could complete her plans, she was executed by Merlin."  
"Apparently, Lancelot had told him that my Mother had used magic to trick him into bedding her."  
"Oh, and did Lancelot say how she tricked him into her bed?" Mordred asked.  
Galahad's expression turned dark.  
"According to him, my Mother turned herself into a beautiful temptress. A woman whom Lancelot only dared think of in his dreams."  
"He was speaking of Guinevere." Mordred said dryly.  
Galahad nodded.  
"And Merlin believed him?"  
Galahad nodded again.  
Mordred scowled.  
"Do you believe that your Mother did this?"  
Galahad shook his head.  
"Of course not. I know that my Mother was a sorceress, though no where near your Mother's own strength. However, I find it hard to believe that she would do such a thing."  
Mordred scoffed.  
"If Lancelot's tail is false, then Merlin would have killed an innocent woman. However, if it was true, which I'm not saying it is, then Merlin would be a hypocrite. Though, if he did believe the tail, he would be a hypocrite regardless of weather it was true or not."  
Galahad raised an eyebrow.  
"What do you mean? Did Merlin ever use magic to trick a woman into his bed."  
Mordred shook his head.  
"No. But he did do this for someone else."  
Quickly, he described the tail of how Uther snuck his way into Igraine's bed, and of how Arthur was conceived. At the end, Galahad was silent for a long time, then he spoke.  
"Merlin has committed many crimes."  
Mordred nodded.  
"He has killed countless, all because they went against what he believed sorcerers should and shouldn't practice."  
Galahad nodded.  
"I believe you too, have lost someone to Merlin's laws."  
"Yes," Mordred said, his head bent down.  
"Her name was Nimue. I... I loved her. More than anything."  
Mordred clenched his fist.  
"She was so good, and Merlin killed her."  
Galahad put a comforting hand on Mordred's shoulder.  
"Many have fallen to Merlin. Truly, he is corrupt."  
"And Arthur is a fool to believe that whatever he says is right." Mordred muttered.  
Galahad sighed.  
"Yes, lately I have begun to lose faith in our King."  
Mordred's head shot up, his eyes wide.  
"What are you saying?" He asked.  
Galahad shook his head.  
"I shouldn't say. It would be treason..."  
"Say it anyway." Mordred insisted. "I promise, I will not put you on trial for treason."  
Galahad sighed.  
"When Arthur had declared Lancelot and Guinevere wanted for treason, I found this understandable. They had committed a truly horrible crime, and I could understand Arthur's rage. However, when Arthur declared that he was going to Francia to hunt them down, I believe he was taking things to far."  
"How do you mean?"  
"I mean, he has put his own selfish desires for vengeance before his duty to Camelot and Britain."  
Galahad looked at him seriously.  
"A true king, would put his duty to his land and his people before his own selfish wants and desires."  
Galahad took a deep breath.  
"Believe me. Once, I did think of Arthur as a great King. However, recent events have led me to believe that Camelot and Britain are in need of a new King."  
Mordred sighed.  
"My Mother believed that I should take the throne."  
Galahad took on a pensive look. Finally, he said something that shocked Mordred.  
"That... That actually sounds reasonable. I believe... I believe that it could work."  
Mordred blinked.  
"What?"  
Galahad continued.  
"I have seen you Mordred. You are wise, with a kind heart and a strong sense of justice."  
Mordred blinked.  
"So you believe that I could make a good King?"  
Galahad looked at him seriously.  
"Yes, I do. You are a great man, Mordred. You had the courage to do what many were too afraid to. You exposed Lancelot and Guinevere's affair to Arthur."  
"Yes, and look how well that went." Mordred muttered. "Many now hate me. My own brother would not speak to me for weeks."  
"And yet," Galahad retorted. "There are many more who admire you."  
Mordred shook his head.  
"It would never work."  
"Never say never." Galahad replied. "I know of many who believe as I do, that Arthur has gone too far in leaving Britain to pursue Lancelot and Guinevere in Francia. Give me some time, We shall band together to make you King."  
"I do not wish for bloodshed." Mordred said quickly.  
Galahad nodded.  
"I was not thinking of anything like that. Though, if things do not go exactly according to plan, then there may be some bloodshed."  
"Let us hope we minimise the casualties." Mordred replied.  
Galahad nodded.  
"Very well then."  
For the next few hours, Mordred and Galahad discussed plans for making the former King, without there being too many casualties.

For the next week, Galahad secretly gathered supporters. Mordred spent his time planning on what he would say to convince the people of Camelot to accept him as King. Finally, the day came when Galahad informed him that his supporters will be ready.  
"They will be in position. All you need do is call the court to order." Galahad told him.  
"And anyone who objects?" Mordred asks.  
Galahad grinned.  
"Will have to get passed those who support us."  
Galahad squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.  
"Do not worry Mordred. Everything will be fine and before the night is out, you will be King."  
Mordred sucked in a nervous breath.  
"I hope you are right, my friend. I hope you are right."  
And so, Mordred called all of the people of Camelot.  
Mordred had never seen the throne-room so full of people. Courtiers, soldiers and knights alike were gathered to hear what Mordred had to say. Even some of the peasants from the nearby village had arrived to hear him.  
Mordred stood on the dais, just in front of the throne. Caliburn hung at his hip. He wore his finest shirt of chainmail, gifted to him by Arthur just after he had been declared heir of Camelot and Britain.   
He looked out at the gathered audience. This was it. It was now or never.  
He took a deep breath.  
"People of Camelot!"  
Immediately, the Throne-room went silent. Everyone was looked at him. Mordred continued.  
"For almost two decades, Britain has celebrated a golden age under the rule of Arthur Pendragon. Under his rule, the Kingdoms of Britain have stood united and have flourished. Arthur has truly brought greatness to this land. However, no one is perfect. Not even men such as Arthur Pendragon."  
He now had the crowd's attention.  
"Just over five weeks ago, Arthur suffered from the discovery of a truly horrific betrayal. His most loyal knight and truest friend, Sir Lancelot, and his beloved wife Queen Guinevere, had been having an affair behind his back. Though this had been occurring for a while, many were scared to reveal it, for they were afraid of how it would effect our King. However, I could not stand for it. I could not just stand there and watch my King be betrayed by the ones whom he trusted the most, again and again. So I revealed the truth to him. And now, I do not know how to feel concerning my actions. My mind tells me that I did what was right. However, my heart grieves for the pain that this revelation has caused my King. For I am afraid that the knowledge of his friend's and his wife's betrayal has led King Arthur into madness. And while his grief is excusable, what cannot be excused is his recent actions concerning the situation."  
The crowd was muttering again.  
"Almost a month ago, Arthur charged me with ruling Camelot while he traveled to Francia in pursuit of the lovers who had betrayed him. While many would say his actions are justified, I do not believe so. It saddens me to admit this, but Arthur Pendragon has put his own selfish desires for vengeance before the needs of his people."  
The muttering became louder.  
"Your King, has abandoned you. Your King, has betrayed you. But I will not. I, Mordred, was charged by Arthur to rule in his stead. However, I believe that Arthur is no longer fit to rule. If you would have me, I swear that I will put you, the people of Camelot, the people of Britain, before my own desires. I will not abandon you for distant lands in pursuit of vengeance."  
He looked around at the crowd.  
"Make me your King, and I will right the wrongs committed by Arthur Pendragon and his father, Uther, before him."  
There were more mutters. Some disbelieving, some outraged. But still, there were many who seemed to be persuaded by Mordred's words.  
He looked around at them.  
"While Arthur was a great King, there was one aspect of his rule which cannot be denied was unjust. His faith in the sorcerer, Merlin Emrys."  
The muttering became louder.  
"Tell me, people of Camelot. How many of you have lost friends, husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, to Merlin, all because they wished to practice what the old sorcerer had declared dark magic?"  
The volume of the muttering had increased. Mordred knew that many had lost a loved one to Merlin's strict laws.  
"I too, have lost someone to his ruling. She was young, barely in her early years of womanhood. She believed that magic should be free, that magic was neither dark nor light, but that it all mattered upon the user's intent."  
Mordred had to take a moment to blink away the tears.  
"Merlin has had a choke hold upon the magic of Britain for too long. I shall not make the same mistakes that Arthur has. Make me your King, and I swear, that you will be allowed to practice whatever magic you wish, provided you do not use your power to harm others. Make me your King, and I swear that I will not abandon you for my own selfish wants and desires. Make me King, and I swear, people of Camelot, you will be free!"  
Mordred was silent, waiting for the crowd's reactions. There were many mutters. Many angered. Many disgusted. Many distrustful. Mordred could have sworn he heard the word "Usurper", a few times.  
But then, there were also mutters of disbelief, of excitement, of hope. Mordred could see the supporters that had been gathered by Galahad spread words of encouragement to those who were beginning to agree with him, and those who still were not sure.  
Finally, after many muttered conversations, the crowd began to unite in one, single chant.  
"Hail Mordred! Hail Mordred! Hail Mordred!"  
Mordred let the chanting continue for a minute or two. Then he held up a hand for silence.  
"Thank you, people of Camelot."  
Suddenly, there was the clearing of a throat. The crowd parted to reveal Lady Vivien.  
"My Lady." Mordred acknowledged respectfully.  
"If you are to be King," Vivien began. "Then I believe you should have a coronation. If you would allow me, it would be an honour to crown our knew King."  
Mordred nodded.  
"On the contrary, it would be an honour for you, Lady Vivien, to be the one to crown me King."  
Vivien smiled and walked up to him. Galahad, who had been standing beside Mordred throughout his entire speech, held out an ornate box to the Lady of the Lake. She opened it to reveal a crown that Galahad had commissioned in secret. Mordred thought it looked beautiful. The gold shone in the early autumn light, a brilliant red ruby the same colour as the one which shone on Caliburn in the very centre of it.  
Mordred knelt at Lady Vivien's feet, a fist placed over his chest.  
"Do you swear, to uphold the laws of this land?" Vivien began.  
"I swear." Mordred replied.  
"And do you swear, to protect the people of Britain in their time of need?"  
"I swear."  
"And do you swear, to put aside your own selfish wants and desires, and put the needs of the people of Britain before all else?"  
"I swear!" Mordred replied, his voice echoing throughout the throne-room.  
"Then I hereby crown you Mordred, King of Camelot, High King of Britain, and protector of the realm."  
Mordred rose to thunderous applause.  
"Hail Mordred! Hail Mordred! Hail Mordred!"

Once the crowd had been disbanded, Mordred set about sending messengers to all of the Kingdoms of Britain, declaring that he was now the High King. In this declaration, he also proclaimed that all magic was to be permitted, regardless of weather or not Merlin had approved of it. The only restriction that Mordred had put upon magic was that it was not to be used to harm another living thing, or the land itself.  
Mordred's next action was to declare Merlin Emrys an enemy of the people, and to send out warrants for his arrest. Any that were able to capture him were to bring him to Camelot. Mordred went so far as to put a bounty on the old sorcerer's head.  
While Mordred wished to hunt the sorcerer down himself, he was also aware that he had sworn to put the needs of the people before his own.  
For the next month, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Merlin had gone into hiding, and Mordred's rule was not faced with as much opposition as he had feared. He listened to everyone's needs, be they the highest noble or the lowest beggar.  
Then, a month into his rule, his father and brothers returned from Cornwall.  
Mordred had been holding court at the time, and so had to send Galahad to escort them into Camelot.  
Over the past month, Galahad had become his closest confidant, advising him during important decisions and defending him when he was insulted by the few nay-sayers. Mordred was quick to reward him with a knighthood.  
Now, Mordred watched from his throne as his father and his four elder brothers entered the throne-room.  
"My Father, my brothers." He greeted. "I am sorry that I was unable to greet you at the gates myself. However, my new duties have bound me to this throne for several more hours."  
"I have heard." His father replied.  
His father scrutinised him.  
"High King." He muttered. "I never thought I should have to call you Sire, but here we are."  
"There is no need for you to give me such a title Father. At least, not in private."  
His Father smiled.  
"Does this extend to us, Sire?" Gawain asked, a grin on his face.  
Mordred rolled his eyes.  
"Of course. You are my brothers."  
"Then why don't you come down from your throne, all mighty High King, and greet us as your brothers?"  
Smiling, Mordred got off of his throne and walked to where his Father and brothers stood. He joined his four elder brothers in a tight embrace.  
"This is truly great." Gaheris said, smiling.  
"I am so proud of you." Agravaine said.  
"This is truly a great accomplishment." Said Gareth.  
Their Father cleared his throat and the five of them turned to face him.  
"Yes, I am happy for you as well, Mordred."  
Mordred could hear the tone in his voice.  
"Father? Is there a problem?"  
His Father cleared his throat again.  
"I believe this is best said in private."  
Mordred pursed his lips.  
"Well, any private conversations will have to wait. As I have said, I am in the middle of holding court. I must fulfill my duties as King before anything else."  
His Father nodded.  
"Of course."  
"I am sure you are tired." Mordred continued. "I will let you rest. But first, there is something I must do."  
He walked back to his throne. However, he did not sit, opting to stand in front of it, facing his Father and brothers.  
"Gawain, Agravaine, the two of you have already been made knights by Arthur. However, I need to know, will you support me?"  
"Yes, will shall." His two eldest brothers said together.  
Mordred turned to his Father.  
"Father, I need to know that I will have the support of Orkney."  
His Father stared at him for a long time. Finally, he spoke.  
"Always." He replied.  
Finally, he turned to his two youngest brothers.  
"Gareth, Gaheris? Will you stand by me?"  
"Will shall." The two replied together.  
"Then step forward." Mordred said, gesturing to the spot just in front of him.  
His brothers understood the gesture. They walked and knelt before him on the steps leading up to the dais.  
"Do you swear, to uphold my laws?" He began.  
"I swear." His brothers said together.  
"And do you swear, to serve me faithfully?"  
"I swear."  
"And do you swear, to fight along side me, to bleed for me, and to die for me, for the sake of our people?"  
"I swear."  
Mordred drew Caliburn and touched the tip of it's blade to Gareth's shoulders.  
?Then I hereby declare you, sir Gareth, knight of Camelot."  
Gareth rose, a smile on his face. Mordred then did the same to Gaheris.  
"I hereby declare you, Sir Gaheris, knight of Camelot."  
Gaheris rose, a smile also gracing his face. But then, he clenched his first and put it over his heart.  
"I will stand by you, my brother, my captain, my king."  
Mordred had to blink back his tears.  
"Thank you brother. Thank you."

Once court was done for the day, Mordred headed for the gust room which his Father usually occupied. He knocked upon the door, suddenly feeling less like the High King of Britain and more like a small boy about to be scolded by his Father.  
"Enter."  
Mordred opened the door and entered the room nervously. He could see his Father, looking out of the window with his back to the door.  
"Father?"  
His Father turned to face him. Mordred could not read his expression.  
"Mordred." He greeted. "We must talk."  
Mordred walked to his Father.  
"What is it that you wish to discus?" Mordred asked.  
His Father sighed and rubbed his temples. Mordred could see that his hair was now streaked with grey.  
"Mordred, you know that I care deeply for you?"  
"Yes, of course Father."  
"And so, I cannot help but be concerned for you."  
Mordred blinked.  
"You need not be concerned for me. I am perfectly fine. I have friends, and I have my brothers. I am sure that they will help me."  
"That is not what I am concerned about." His Father retorted.  
"Then what are you concerned about?" Mordred asked.  
His Father sighed again.  
"Mordred, do you remember the warning I gave you before you first came to Camelot?"  
Mordred furrowed his eyebrows.  
"You warned me that my Mother may be manipulating me into her plans of vengeance against Arthur."  
His Father nodded.  
"Now, I am afraid that all this, you becoming High King, is all a part of your mother's plans."  
Mordred shook his head.  
"This is not about vengeance."  
His Father shook his head again.  
"There are things you do not understand."  
Mordred raised an eyebrow.  
"Oh, and what is it that I do not understand."  
His Father sighed.  
"Just after Gaheris's birth, I overheard your Mother muttering to herself, about a vision she had had."  
"And what was in this vision?" Mordred asked skeptically.  
His Father sucked in a breath.  
"A vision of Arthur dying at the hands of one who was both the blood of Uther and of Gorloise. Of the Pendragon line being ended with a Guileless Son."  
Mordred's eyes widened. Guileless Son. The name that his mother had always called him. He had always wondered what this meant.  
"Then, she travels to Camelot. And eight months after she returns, she leaves again, claiming that she must give birth to her "Guileless Son" in secret."  
Mordred sucked in a deep breath.  
"Father, I..."  
"There is a secret, that you must know Mordred. Believe me when I say, I have always loved you, just as much as your brothers. However..."  
"I know of what my Mother did to Arthur." Mordred interrupted.  
His Father blinked.  
"You do?"  
"Yes." Mordred replied. "Arthur told me months ago. Mother confirmed it. I know that I am the son of Arthur, born of incest."  
He looked at his Father seriously.  
"However, I still think of you as my Father. For it was you who raised me, who trained me and who loved me since I was but a small child."  
His father sucked in a breath.  
"And I too, think of you as my son. And that is why I am so concerned for you. I do not wish for your Mother's vision to be fulfilled."  
Mordred frowned.  
"You are concerned that I will slay Arthur."  
His Father shook his head.  
"Nay, there is more. In the vision, she saw Arthur dying at the hands of the Guileless Son. However, she also saw the Guileless Son, you, dying at the hands of Arthur."  
Mordred shook his head.  
"No. This cannot be. You are mistaken."  
His Father shook his head again.  
"Your Mother intended the end of the Pendragon line. Mordred, you are part of the Pendragon line. Do you not see, Mordred. She has planed this from the start."  
Mordred shook his head, denying that his Mother could have ever planned such a horrible fate for her own child.  
"Just think about that song she used to sing to you. "Guileless Son, I'll shape your belief..."."  
"And you'll always know that your Father's a thief." Mordred muttered. He shook his head. "It does not matter. I am High King now, and there is much for me to do. I must find Merlin and make him pay for his countless crimes. And I must also ensure that my rule is secure before Arthur returns from Francia."  
His Father looked at him sadly.  
"What happened to the little boy who used to sneak into the training yard and play fight with his brothers using wooden sticks as swords?"  
Mordred returned the stare.  
"He grew up."

The next day, his Father departed for Orkney. Mordred was saddened to see him leave. However, his mind was also still Wheeling from their conversation.  
How dare he accuse his Mother of concocting a plan so horrible, so terrible. His Mother may hate Arthur, but she was not that cruel. She would have never done such a thing to her own son.  
But at the same time, he thought about the song that his Mother had used to sing to him. He had never been able to decipher the meaning. So what if...?

Regardless of Mordred's internal struggle, things slowly went back to normal. Now, Mordred had five great advisers in the forms of Galahad and his brothers. They remained forever fateful to him. Mordred felt stronger now that he had his brothers with him. He could truly see a peaceful feature for Britain, free of fear that a friend or family member could suddenly be condemned for supposed dark sorcery.  
However, the vision of peace shattered once Arthur returned.  
Mordred sat upon his throne, with Gawain and Gareth to his left and Agravaine and Gaheris to his right. Arthur stormed into the throne-room, accompanied by some of his men and escorted by soldiers led by Galahad.  
"Mordred, what is this madness!" Arthur demanded.  
Mordred remained calm.  
"Welcome back to Camelot. Did you end up capturing Lancelot and Guinevere?"  
Arthur's frown depended.  
"They sort sanctuary with the Francish King. I cannot touch them."  
"That is unfortunate." Mordred replied.  
"Yes, almost as unfortunate as learning that, in my absence, the person I trusted to watch my Kingdom has usurped my throne."  
Mordred shrugged.  
"Tis not my fault that the people decided you were... No longer fit to rule."  
"Oh, and I doubt you had any part in persuading them." Arthur muttered sarcastically.  
Mordred shrugged.  
"Perhaps. But I only have what is best for Britain at heart."  
"What is best for Britain?" Arthur demanded. "Do you even know what rumours I have heard. You, lifting all restrictions on magic."  
Mordred scowled.  
"Magic was not meant to be restricted. It was meant to be free."  
Arthur scoffed.  
"Yes, and what do you think will happen to such power in the wrong hands?"  
"I have created new laws, ensuring that magic is not used to harm the land or the people." Mordred replied.  
"Oh, and how do you know that they will follow your laws?" Arthur scoffed. "You are a child. What right do you have, to decide what is best for Britain?"  
Mordred took a deep, calming breath.  
"I am King of Britain. You made me your heir. I am not the only one who believed you proved yourself no longer fit to rule when you left for Francia in pursuit of revenge. And so, with much support, I became High King of Britain, as is my birthright."  
"Your birthright, was to die!" Arthur yelled.  
Mordred could feel his heart clench.  
"As a child, cast out to sea in a fishing boat." He continued, calmer than before. "If I had not changed my mind at the last moment, you would not be hear now to hate me."  
Mordred scowled.  
"Really? Because my Mother seemed to tell a different story."  
"Your Mother," Arthur growled. "Was a treacherous, incestuous hoar. It was only my sense of duty towards my family which kept me from having her executed after what she did to me."  
Mordred could sense his brother stiffen at Arthur's words.  
"You dare..." Gawain began, but Mordred quickly silenced him with a look.  
"Who do you expect me to believe? My Mother, or you? You are nothing more than a King of arrogance, of lies and betrayal."  
Arthur's face flickered with sadness, but it was quickly replied with anger.  
"Why are you doing this Mordred?"  
Mordred sat forward.  
"You put too much trust in Merlin Emrys. You have put the magic of Britain in shackles, when it was made to be free. Too many have died because of this."  
"If you are speaking of Nimue," Arthur began. "I have already said that..."  
"Stop!" Mordred said sharply. "Do not speak her name. It is because of you that she and countless others are dead."  
He looked at the man he had once admired.  
"Believe me, I do not wish to do this. But you have given me no choice."  
Arthur sighed.  
"And you have given me, no choice."  
Arthur and his party began to leave. Agravaine made to follow them, but Mordred stopped him.  
"No brother, don't."  
"But Sire," Agravaine began. "You cannot possibly..."  
Mordred shook his head.  
"I do not wish for bloodshed in the halls of Camelot. We had already welcomed them in, and we would be violating the laws of hospitality by attack them."  
Agravaine grumbled, but stayed his hand.  
Mordred sucked in a deep breath. Somehow, he knew that this was not over. He knew, that the worst was yet to come.

Harry sat bolt upright. He quickly grabbed his glasses and writing equipment.  
Using the light from the street lamps outside the window, he quickly wrote down what he could remember from his latest dream.  
As of late, his dreams had been becoming exponentially darker. While he could not remember many details of his dreams, he felt as if things were changing. And they were changing rapidly.  
Though his dreams had become dark, Harry could not help the feeling of foreboding. Somehow, he could sense that the worst was yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to loose it Arthur. Though, I don't blame him. All he did was put his emotionally unstable nephew-son on the throne while he ran off to fight Lancelot in France.  
> Pore Mordred, he tries to do the right thing and his Dad-uncle gets angry at him. Going to warn you, things get worse from here.  
> So what did you think? Did I handle Mordred's assention to power well? How about his confrontation with Arthur?  
> I may or may not have snuck a in couple movie quotes. let's see if you can spot them. I'll give you a hint. One is from "LORD of the Rings", and the other is from a Marvel movie.  
> Feel free to comment. Feedback helps me to improve and posative feedback inspires me to right more.  
> Thanks for reading!


	10. The Last Verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all knew this was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Okay, I wasn't sure if I should put this in the tags because, well... It onl happens once in the stoy. I'm not planning anthing else like it. I' not even sure how to dscribe it without spoiing the chapter.  
> Let's say that, someone tries tin saduce Mordred, and Mordred gets angy. It's nothing sexul or anything. But I'm just rying to be safe with this arning.

Chapter 10:

Mordred was sitting in his study, going over reports from Camelot and other kingdoms. The study used to be Arthur's. It was where Mordred had accepted Arthur's offer of becoming heir of Camelot and Britain, where the young man had declared his loyalty to the then High King. Now, it was where he planned his war against Arthur.  
Mordred sighed as he looked over the reports. It had been three months since Arthur had stormed out of Camelot. Since then, the former High King had declared Mordred a usurper and a traitor. He had gone to the many Kingdoms of Britain, seeking allies in his fight for the throne. Mordred had quickly learnt of his actions, and had retaliated by seeking out his own allies in Britain. It did not take long for the land to erupt into civil war.  
This caused great sadness for Mordred. He had wanted to unite Britain, not divide it. But because of Arthur's stubbornness and pride, (Or at least that's what Mordred told himself), brother was fighting brother and kin were slaying kin.  
Galahad and his brothers had assisted him greatly in his time of turmoil. They took some of the burden off by organising supplies, troops and messengers. However, they had all been so preoccupied that Mordred had hardly had any time to talk with them concerning anything but the war. This caused Mordred even more pain, as he missed being able to talk to the people he cared for most. Galahad was not even in Britain, as he was seeking allies from the mainland.  
But alas, duty must come before pleasure.  
He looked over his papers again.  
Many Kingdoms had sided with Arthur. However, to Mordred's surprise, many had sided with him. Mordred had a way with people, he knew this. However, he need only look at Arthur to see where he had inherited it from. The man just had a way of inspiring people that Mordred could not compete with.  
Thankfully, they seemed to be on par with each other when it came to strategical planning. Arthur may have had decades more experience than Mordred, but the younger was more cunning. These served to balance each other out, for the most part. However, Arthur was beginning to gain the upper hand. At the moment he slightly outnumbered Mordred, and was expected to reach Camelot within a month's time.  
Thankfully, his father was due to arrive soon with reinforcements from Orkney.  
He was just looking over reports of the food-stores when there was an urgent nocking on his door.  
"Yes?" He asked, raising his head.  
"Sire," Came the voice of a servant from the other side of the door. "There is... An emissary, here to discus an alliance with you."  
Mordred got up from his chair and opened the door to see that the servant was trembling nervously. Mordred gestured for the young man to lead him to the throne-room. The servant quickly complied.  
Who could this be?  
Mordred thought to himself.  
And why is this servant so scared?  
His answer was apparent as soon as he stepped into the throne-room. Standing in the large chamber, surrounded by guards and smiling at him nervously, was one of the last people he would have ever expected, or wanted, to see. He could feel both shock and anger running through his veins.  
"You." He said, his furry so strong in his voice that his visitor flinched.  
"Greetings Sire."  
Mordred walked to his throne, trying as hard as he could not to draw his sword and strike his visitor down where they stood. Thankfully, his four brothers were already there, ready to prevent him from doing anything reckless.  
"What are you here for, Guinevere?" He said, practically spitting the name of the former Queen.  
"I have come on behalf of my father, King Leodagrance of Cameliard. We understand that Arthur's numbers are greater than your own, and wish to offer you aid in the form of reinforcements."  
Mordred raised an eyebrow.  
"Your father has chosen to side with me over Arthur?"  
Guinevere frowned.  
"My father is still angered by how Arthur insulted him when he made me an enemy of the crown."  
Mordred scoffed.  
"For good reason. Tell me, does King Leodegrance know of your affair with Lancelot?"  
"Of course not." Guinevere snapped. "I am surprised that you..."  
"What, noticed the silent communication between you and Lancelot?" Mordred asked rhetorically. "It honestly did not take me long to figure it out. In fact, everyone in Camelot but Arthur knew of your adultery."  
Guinevere cleared her throat.  
"Yes, regardless of what had been done in the past, I am here now to offer mine and my father's aid."  
"Oh, and why should I accept your offer?" Mordred asked. "My own Father shall be here in a matter of days with reinforcements from Orkney."  
Suddenly, he heard a throat clearing from beside him. Mordred turned to see Agravaine wanted to whisper something to him.  
"Sire," He said in a hushed tone so that only Mordred could hear him. "While Father may bring reinforcements which may give us an advantage, it would still be wise to accept as many allies as possible."  
Mordred scowled, but knew that Agravaine had a point. Finally, after much thought, he turned back to Guinevere.  
"Very well. However, I must know what your Father wants in exchange for his soldiers before I make a decision."  
Guinevere's gaze flickered to the side nervously.  
"He wishes for us to wed."  
"No!" He said instantly, disgusted with the mere thought. "I... I refuse..."  
"Sire," Agravaine began. "We need these reinforcements..."  
"She is the reason why Nimue is dead." Mordred hissed.  
"I agree with Mordred." Gaheris said. "We cannot trust her."  
"We do not have much choice." Gareth pointed out.  
"She is part of the reason this all began in the first place." Retorted Gawain.  
"Enough!" Mordred exclaimed.   
He turned back to Guinevere, his brow raised.  
"And what does Lancelot think of this arrangement?"  
Guinevere scowled.  
"He... Has chosen to side with Arthur. He believes that, in the face of your betrayal, all will be forgiven."  
Mordred scoffed.  
"And how can I trust that you will be faithful?"  
Guinevere sighed.  
"I admit, what I did was wrong. I knew that if the two of us were ever discovered, there will be a hefty price to pay. However, I did not think that it would lead to this?"  
Mordred sighed. He truly did not wish to marry Guinevere. She had been the one to tell Merlin of Nimue's secret practices. She was the reason for Nimue's death. If not for her, Nimue would still be alive, possibly as Mordred's Queen. He would much prefer to have Guinevere frown to the deepest darkest dungeon, or worse, to Arthur's mercy.  
However, Mordred knew that sacrifices had to be made in war. His duty to his people must come before all else. He needed reinforcements, and if he needed to wed Guinevere to get them, then so be it.  
"Very well." Mordred said finally. "However, if I catch even a whisper of any form of betrayal, I will kill you myself."  
Guinevere smiled.  
"Oh, thank you, thank you."  
"Stop." Mordred said. "I will make this perfectly clear. I am only accepting this arrangement because I need your Father's reinforcements, nothing more."  
"Yes, I understand." Guinevere replied.

The next day, the two had a quick and small ceremony. They could not afford the resources or the time needed for a grand wedding, so they had to make do.  
After they were officially married and the celebration was finished, Mordred and Guinevere entered the royal bedchamber. Guinevere looked around in amazement.  
"I used to share this room with Arthur."  
Mordred scowled at the reminder.  
"Yes, he was so distraught after your betrayal that he had to move to new sleeping-quarters. These were given to me when he declared me his heir."  
Mordred walked to his wardrobe and began to prepare himself for bed. However, he turned when Guinevere cleared her throat.  
"Sire, what are you doing?"  
"I am preparing to put on my night-clothes. I believe the servants should have moved your clothes..."  
"But Sire?" Guinevere interrupted. "There is still the consummation to be done."  
Mordred blinked.  
"That will not be necessary."  
Guinevere's eyes widened.  
"But Sire, do you not want me?"  
"No." Mordred replied dryly.  
"Oh, come now, it is your duty. You must." Guinevere insisted.  
Mordred's eyes widened as she walked closer to him. He could feel her pressing against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Mordred pushed her away in disgust.  
It wasn't that Mordred did not find her attractive. She was most definitely beautiful. She was still young at the age of thirty-two. However, Mordred could not help but remember that a very different woman could be standing in her place if not for her.  
"Let me make this perfectly clear." Mordred began, finally finding his night-shirt. "This marriage is purely political. I, in no way desire you. We shall consummate the marriage when I decide we will, and no sooner."  
He began to remove his formal clothes and was about to put on his night-clothes, when suddenly Guinevere was upon him again. Before he could stop her, she had put her lips upon his.  
Her kisses were nothing like Nimue's. When Nimue and he had kissed, it had been slow, delicate, yet full of so much love. Guinevere, however, was pure passion. She was quick, warm and deep. It was absolutely suffocating.  
Then her hands began to wander his body. They were about to reach a particularly intimate area when Mordred finally managed to push her away. The force of his push was so great that Guinevere stumbled backwards until she fell upon the bed. Mordred, clad only in his trousers, stalked towards the fallen queen and loomed over her, a hand on either side of her body and his face mere inches from her own.  
At first, Guinevere seemed terrified. Then, a smirk appeared on her lips.  
"Oh, isn't this just..."  
"Silence." Mordred barked.  
He looked directly into her eyes.  
"Do not be mistaken Guinevere. I may have wed you, but this does not mean I have forgiven you for what you have done."  
"Oh?" Guinevere asked. "You still care for Arthur, even when you war with him."  
"This is not about Arthur." Mordred spat. "This is about how you betrayed Nimue to Merlin."  
Guinevere's eyes widened.  
"Mordred, you have to believe me. I did not mean for her to die. She was my friend, and I was truly saddened when she was executed. I was just... Just afraid of what she was doing. But please, I did not wish for Nim..."  
Slap.  
BOTH Mordred and Guinevere looked at the former's hand in shock. Mordred had never thought he would hit a woman, and yet, his anger at Guinevere had caused him to act out of violence.  
"Do not," He spat in rage. "Say her name. You will not disgrace her memory by speaking her name with your unworthy lips."  
He could still hear Guinevere whimpering in fear as he put on his night-clothes. He turned to her.  
"Go put on your night-clothes and go to bed."  
The queen quickly got up to comply.

It was a few days later that Mordred received word of the arrival of the reinforcements from Orkney. He eagerly waited at the gates of Camelot with his brothers. He was looking forward to seeing his Father again.  
However, once the soldiers arrived, banners high, he did not see his Father anywhere. He glanced over the front ranks, where he knew his father would be, and saw no sine of him. However, when he saw the state of most of the soldiers, he could feel his heart sink in dread.  
Almost every man present was covered in mud and dried blood.   
"What is this?" Mordred found himself demanding. "Where is my Father?"  
One of his Father's generals, mud-splattered and tired, stepped forward.  
"I am truly sorry sire." He began. "As we were travelling, we were attacked by Arthur's forces. We managed to defeat them, however, King Lot did not survive."  
Mordred felt his heart clench. He glanced at his brothers to see them all besot by grief and anger.  
"What of his body?" Mordred heard himself ask.  
"We sent him with a small party to Orkney, where I may be berried with his ancestors."  
Mordred sucked in a breath.  
"His death shall not be in vein. Arthur shall pay for all that he has done."  
He then turned to Gawain.  
"Gawain, I know that this is much I ask of you. However, you must..."  
"I understand." Gawain interrupted, unusually serious.  
He stepped in front of the soldiers from Orkney. The four brothers watched as the eldest among them was made King.

Later, Mordred was in the war room, looking at the large map which was spread upon the large round table.  
Arthur was much, much closer than he had suspected. If what the Orkney generals had told him was true, then Arthur would be upon them in a week.  
He sighed. This was all happening to fast for him to handle. He had to organise his troops, weapons, armor, check the stores in case of a siege...  
"Mordred?"  
He looked up to see Gawain, in his new armour and crown befitting his new status as King of Orkney. The new King came into the room, soon followed by Agravaine, Gareth and Gaheris. Mordred gestured for them to take a seat.  
"Having trouble?" Gareth asked.  
Mordred just sighed and rubbed his temples.  
"I can understand." Gawain said sympathetically.  
"All of this is happening too fast." Mordred said. "Father dying, Arthur approaching..."  
Gaheris put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
"How long do we have?" He asked.  
"About a week." Mordred replied. "We suspect that he will approach via the field of Camelinn. Arthur was always fond of the shield-wall."  
"Then we shall meet him in open combat." Gawain replied.  
"It is not so simple." Mordred retorted. "We will be fighting up hill."  
"That does not matter." Gawain growled. "Arthur must pay. He has murdered our Father, insulted our Mother..."  
"Yes," Agreed Agravaine. "However, something has bothered me since that day. What did Arthur mean by his insults?"  
"Yes," Gareth said, furrowing his brows. "I too have been pondering this. However, we have been so preoccupied that I have not been able to ask."  
He turned to Mordred.  
"I noticed that you seemed to know of what Arthur was speaking of." Gareth observed.  
Mordred could feel four pairs of eyes peering at him curiously. He sighed. Even after all these months, he still had not told them of what he discovered concerning his true lineage. He was still hesitant, as he feared what they would think of him if they knew the truth. But he decided that now was a better time then any, and that this secret had waited long enough.   
He sucked in a breath and began.  
"Just after Nimue's death, Arthur revealed something to me. Something which I had trouble believing."  
He sucked in another breath and told his story. He watched his brothers faces morph from shock, to horror, and back to shock again.  
Once Mordred was finished, he sat back to gage his brothers reactions. They were all completely silent for a long time.  
"So... So what you are saying is..." Began Gareth. "Is that... That you are actually the son... The son of..."  
Mordred nodded.  
"Why did you not tell us sooner?" Gawain asked.  
Mordred looked down.  
"I was afraid, that you would be disgusted."  
"Why would we be disgusted?" Agravaine asked.  
"I am nothing more than a bastard born of incest." Mordred argued.  
"That is not your fault." Gaheris argued. "It is not your fault that our Mother... Did such things with Arthur."  
Mordred looked up to see that his three eldest brothers were nodding in agreement.  
"We are mostly horrified that Mother would have done such a thing." Gareth agreed. But then he frowned. "My only concern is what Mother supposedly saw in her vision."  
"Yes, that is troubling." Agravaine agreed.  
"You do not believe it is true?" Mordred asked incredulously.  
"Well, it would explain a lot." Gareth replied. "Why she favoured you, why she insisted you learnt magic..."  
"And," Gawain continued. "I do remember, when I was a small boy and she was round with you in her belly, that she had mysteriously left for a long time and returned with a small infant in her arms."  
"But still," Mordred argued. "You don't honestly believe that she would have planned for... For me to kill Arthur and for him to kill me at the same time?"  
His brothers glanced at each other nervously. Finally, Gaheris sighed and turned to him.  
"It does appear that things are falling into place. Soon, you and Arthur will face off against each other in the battle-field."  
He glanced at their brothers.  
"However, I believe that I speak for all of us when I say that, you will not be alone. We shall fight by your side."  
Their brothers nodded in agreement.  
"Thank you." Mordred said, tears of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, my brothers."

Approximately six days later, Mordred received word that Arthur and his army had set up camp on the far side of Camelinn. Mordred ordered the army to march to Camelinn at once. He ordered a small contingent of soldiers evacuate the village into the castle, just in case the battle was unsuccessful.  
The winter sun was high in the sky by the time Mordred's army marched to the field of Camelinn with steeled nervous and determination in their eyes. They met Arthur's army in the centre. Both sides erected a shield wall. Once they were face -to-face, there was only about thirty metres separating them. After a long time of silence, Arthur's shield-wall parted long enough for the man himself to walk forward.  
"Mordred!" He yelled. "It does not have to end this way. Surrender now, and no one has to die this day."  
Mordred, too, entered the no-man's-land.  
"I am afraid it is too late for such words." He replied.  
"Please, I do not wish to fight you." Arthur said, pleadingly.  
"Nor do I." Mordred replied.  
"Then why are you doing this?"  
"You have given me no choice." Mordred replied.  
"You do have a choice." Arthur retorted. "Give me back more throne."  
"Give us back our freedom."  
Arthur frowned.  
"I cannot do that. You know this. Magic needs to be restricted."  
"No, magic needs to be free." Mordred retorted.  
He could hear both sides beginning to yell arguments at each other, supporting their respective Kings.  
"Why do you not tell them." Mordred said calmly. "Tell them why you have restricted magic so much."  
Mordred could have sworn he saw a flicker of fear.  
"Mordred, no." Arthur almost begged.  
Mordred raised an eyebrow.  
"Why not? Are you afraid that your supporters will abandon you once they learn of what you did? Of how you allowed the deaths of innocent infants, all because you feared one..."  
"Mordred, please." Arthur repeated, desperation strong in his voice.  
Mordred continued.  
"What are you more ashamed of, the firty-nine dead infants cast to the ocean in a fishing boat at your order..."  
"I did not do such an act." Arthur interrupted, but Mordred continued.  
"... Or the son you had begotten by your half-sister."  
He could now hear everyone, regardless of side, muttering in shock. Mordred now addressed the crowd as a whole.  
"Yes, I admit it. The great Arthur Pendragon is guilty of incest with his half-sister, whom many refer to as Morgana Le Fay. And once Arthur learnt of her pregnancy, the sorcerer Merlin informed him of a vision in which he died at the hands of his son, born of incest. And so, upon the prophesied day of the child's birth, he searched the land for all infants born on this day. He then ordered they be cast out on a fishing boat, left to die..."  
"Mordred..."  
"... Forty were cast out onto the boat. However, only thirty-nine died. One boy lived. His Mother found him and reunited him with his family. And now, this child, the last surviver, stands before you."  
Gasps echoed across the battle-field.  
"Yes, I am not ashamed to admit that I was born of Arthur's seed."  
"That is enough!" Arthur yelled. "You will not surrender? Very well then. You will get your battle."  
Mordred smirked.  
"Come Father, let us embrace at last."  
And so, Father and Son turned to reenter the ranks of their armies. Once they took their places, the horn blew and the battle began.

The battle lasted for hours on end. Mordred lost track of time in the fray. All that existed were crashing swords and the screams of the injured and dying. Both shield-walls had broken long ago. The world was now chaos. The only indication that time had passed was the slowly descending sun and the lengthening shadows.  
Mordred had lost sight of his brothers long ago. He knew only the anarchy of the world around him. All he could focus on were the enemies in his immediate view.  
Suddenly, he heard a familiar yell.  
"Mordred!"  
He turned to see Gaheris, a grin on his face and blood on his blade.  
"Ris!" Mordred replied. "Do you know where our brothers are?"  
"No!" Gaheris replied. "However, I do know that Arthur is trying to regroup on the far side. Many of his soldiers are..."  
Suddenly, Gaheris was cut off. Mordred watched in horror as his brother made a gargling sound. Then, blood began to appear from his still open mouth.  
"Ris!" Mordred yelled as he ran to his brother.  
Mordred caught him in his arms to see a large stab wound on his fourth brother's back. Tears began to pool in his eyes.  
"Ris? Ris!" He yelled frantically.  
He looked into his brother's eyes. All of the life had left them.  
"No!" Mordred yelled, falling to his knees.  
He could not believe this. His brother was dead. They had been raised together. They had played together, they had thought together...  
And now he was gone.  
Mordred got up furiously, only to come face-to-face with Lancelot.  
"You." Mordred growled. The man continued to smirk.  
"Oh, do not worry. You shall soon be reunited with him."  
Mordred plastered a fake smirk on his own face.  
"Oh no. It is you, who shall be dead. And once I win this battle, I shall return to my Kingdom... And the warm arms of Guinevere."  
Lancelot's expression quickly melted.  
"I know not what you speak of, boy."  
"Oh, don't you?" Mordred asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you not know that Guinevere is now my Queen. I suppose she tired of both you and Arthur and decided a younger man was more preferable. And I must admit, I can see why you betrayed Arthur for her. She is quite... Passionate. The things she has shown me..."  
It was a lie, but Lancelot did not have to know that. He of course, had never bedded Guinevere. However, he knew that if Lancelot were to think he did, he would become angered. This would cause him to be more reckless in his attack.  
And so it did. Lancelot attacked Mordred furiously. Their swords clashed loudly, both wishing badly to kill the other. Lancelot was a mighty warrior, Mordred would give him that. However, he did not have magic.  
Mordred cast a spell on the ground, causing the trampled grass to grow rapidly, tangling itself around Lancelot's legs. The older man tried to fight it, but the magically enhanced plants were too strong for him.  
But that did not stop him from trying to cut at them with his sword, which was all Mordred needed.  
With a mighty yell, Mordred plunged Caliburn's blade into Lancelot's chest.  
"That was for Gaheris." Mordred said, as the fallen knight fell from the blade, the plants now falling away with the death of their captive and the spell.  
Mordred panted for a few seconds. Then he focused back on the battle. He needed to end this, now.  
"Arthur!" He yelled out. "Come and face me, you cowered!"  
He continued to wander the battle field, in search of Arthur. Finally, they met in what Mordred believed to be the centre of the field. It seemed as if Arthur had been in search of him, too.  
"Mordred!" He yelled. "Look at this, look around you!"  
He gestured at the chaos around them. "Do you think this madness will end with your rule?"  
"It's too late!" Mordred replied. "Let's end this, my King, my uncle... My Father."  
Excalibur and Caliburn met with a loud clang of metal against metal. The two Kings fought in a deadly dance. Mordred thought that he could see the rest of the fighter stop and form a ring around them. However, he was not sure. The world around him disappeared and all that mattered was Arthur and himself.  
Suddenly, Arthur fault. Mordred took this advantage to disarm his opponent. Excalibur flew from Arthur's hand, landing far off in the distance.  
"It ends now." Mordred panted.  
"No." Arthur replied, before kicking at Mordred's legs.  
The younger man was momentarily unbalanced. He fell to the ground. By the time Mordred got to his feet, Arthur had run to one of his observing soldiers and gotten a spear.  
Mordred attempted to fight against the new weapon. However, Arthur was too fast and the spear provided him with too much range. Mordred was knocked to the ground.  
He rolled onto his back, only for the tip of the spear to meet his stomach. It had not gone in deep. Only enough to draw blood. Mordred's mind was suddenly cast back to the memory of his first duel with Arthur.  
"The only way you will be able to strike me down now..." Arthur began.  
"Is if I were to further skewer myself upon your spear." Mordred finished.  
His hand tightened on his sword. Ignoring the pain, he got back to his feet. The spear dug deeper into his stomach, but he continued. He pushed through the pain until Arthur was within his reach. He could feel the tip of the spear poke through his back, but he did not care. All that mattered was taking Arthur down.  
"For the freedom of magic." He said, before swinging Caliburn.  
Mordred embedded his sword into the chest of his Father. The older man's eyes were wide. Both fell to the ground.  
Mordred watched as the light left Arthur's eyes.  
"Mordred..." Arthur gasped. "I... I am... Sorry... I was not... Able to... To save you... From... From your Mother..."  
Tears were in the former King's eyes.  
"I... I love you..."  
Tears were appearing in Mordred's eyes.  
"I... Never... Wished... For this." He gasped. "I only wanted to be free."  
"I know... I know..."  
And those were the last words spoken by Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, High King of Britain, and one of the greatest men to ever live.  
Somehow, Mordred was still alive. He lay there, looking at the carnage around him.  
Bodies lay everywhere. The two sides had seemingly stopped fighting, now that they had both lost their kings. They were now gathering their dead for burials and wounded for healing. Mordred tried to find his three remaining brothers, to see if they were still alive. However, only one figure court his attention. An old man, walking towards him in the twilight.  
"Merlin:" Mordred said, coughing up a mouthful of blood.  
"You." The sorcerer growled as he reached the fallen Kings. "You have ruined everything."  
Mordred laughed bitterly.  
"And so the coward shows his face once it is all over. I shouldn't be surprised."  
Merlin spat at him.  
"I should have strangled you myself when I laid you with the rest of the infants in that boat and ordered you all out to sea."  
Mordred's eyes widened.  
"You... You were the one..."  
"Yes." Merlin replied. "I was the one whom ordered you and those firty-nine infants dead."  
"Why?" Mordred gasped.  
"I could not let Arthur die." Merlin replied. "That would interfere with my plans for Britain. You must understand, all that I did was for the greater good."  
Mordred spat out another mouthful of blood.  
"You... You only wanted to dominate the sorcerers of Britain."  
"Perhaps." Merlin replied. "But my intentions were for the greater good. You and your hoar of a Mother..."  
"And Nimue? Why did you... Kill her...?"  
Merlin sighed.  
"She was a brilliant young girl. However, I could tell you had corrupted her with... Unacceptable practices."  
Mordred drew upon the little strength he had left to cast one final spell. It was one of the spells which he and Nimue had created. The original intent was to give someone who was beyond healing a quick and painless death. However, now Mordred used it to take down the sorcerer who had done so much harm to so many.  
"For igraine, for Gorlois, for my Mother, for both my Fathers, for my brothers, for the thirty-nine infants, for Britain... And for Nimue...."  
And with his last breath, he lifted his hand and pointed it towards Merlin, calling upon his magic for one final spell.  
"Avada Kedavra."  
A green light left his hand. It hit Merlin and the old sorcerer fell to the ground instantly dead.  
Mordred smiled. If nothing else, at least he had avenged the many who had been hurt from Merlin's schemes.  
As he felt his life leaving him, he looked to the horizon to see that the moon was rising. It was full. The mere sight of it made him think of Nimue.  
Mordred blinked. There appeared to be someone approaching him. The strangest part about it was that Mordred could have sworn the figure had appeared straight out of the moon.  
As the figure drew nearer, Mordred gasped as he recognised her.  
"Nimue." He breathed.  
"Shhhh." Nimue hushed him.  
She put a hand on his stomach, where Arthur had stabbed him.  
"Nimue, I'm sorry." He said. "I... I have brought ruin to Britain. Arthur was right, I am only a foolish boy..."  
"Shhhh." Nimue repeated, putting a hand on his forehead. "It is alright my love."  
Mordred could feel tears prickling his eyes again.  
"No, it is not. I... I have failed you. I failed all of you..."  
Nimue shook her head.  
"Yes, you have made mistakes. But you only had Britain's best interests at heart. I do not fault you for this."  
Mordred shook his head. "So many have died. I have done things which cannot be undone."  
"Shhhh." She hushed again. "Do not worry, my tarnished silver. We shall rise again. We shall have another chance to rewrite the stars."  
"No one can rewrite the stars." Mordred said bitterly. "My Mother foresaw that Arthur and I would kill each other, and that is exactly what happened."  
"And you know better now." Nimue replied. "Once we rise again, you shall know better, no not to listen to the manipulations of others."  
She bent down and brushed her lips against his.  
"And when we rise, you and I will meet again. And I will still love you, as I always have."  
And with that, his vision faded. The last thing he saw was the smiling face of the woman he loved the most.

Harry sat up, gasping. Countless images flickered through his head. It was as if the dreams that he had had every night for almost two months were coming all at once. He could hardly think strate in the confusion.  
Deliriously, he fell out of his bed. He could feel his stomach turning. He could feel his head spinning.  
He was suddenly violently sick, all over the floor.  
"What the... Harry...? Oh, bloody hell..."  
With trembling legs, Harry got to his feet and groped around the bed-side table for his glasses. Once he had found them and put them on, he quickly searched the draws for his journal and pen.  
"Harry?"  
He knew that Ron had gotten out of bed and was concerned for him. However, Harry could not bring himself to look at him. So he simply grabbed his journal and pen, and went to leave the room.  
"I need to go." He said quickly, still not turning to Ron. "I just... Need to go clear my mind. Don't worry, I won't leave the house."  
And without another word, he quickly walked out of the door and attempted to find somewhere, anywhere, where he could sit and focus without interruption.  
His thoughts were a jumble of emotion and memory. He could hardly think of who he was.  
He was Harry.  
He was Mordred.  
His Mother was Lily Potter.  
His Mother was Morgana Le Fay.  
His Father was James Potter.  
His Fathers were King Lot of Orkney and Arthur Pendragon, the King of Camelot and high King of Britain.  
He was an only child.  
He was the youngest of five brothers.  
He was a wizard.  
He was a king.  
Finally, he reached the room where Sirius was keeping Buckbeak. He opened the door, startling the hipogriff. He hurriedly bowed and waited until Buckbeak bowed to him in exchange.  
Once that was done, he closed the door and sat with his back against the wall. He opened his journal and, his pen at the read, began to write down everything.  
Now that he could write everything now, his thoughts began to clear.  
His dreams were infact memories of a past life. In this past life, he had been Mordred. He now remembered everyone who had been in his dreams.  
The mother had been Morgana. The father had been Lot. The brothers had been Gawain, Agravaine, Gareth and Gaheris. The king had been Arthur. The queen had been Guinevere.  
Everything now made sense to him. And part of him wished that it didn't.   
He blinked away tears as he turned to the last pages, where he had written the song which the Mother, his Mother, had sung to him. The lyrics now made sense to him. They were all describing her plans to manipulate him, her Guileless Son.  
I'll shape your belief,  
And you'll always know that your father's a fief...  
She was trying to manipulate how he thought, so that he would hate Arthur.  
You'll always follow the voices beneath...  
Even when she was dead, Mordred would listen to her teachings.  
Your spirit will hate her,  
The flower who married, my brother the traitor...  
Telling him to hate Guinevere. Well, Morgana did not need to do much manipulation in that area.  
Even the constant chanting of "loyalty" was a manipulation. She was ensuring that he would be loyal, only to her.  
However, the part which hurt him the most was the last verse, which was now all to clear to him.  
It was in these words that Harry realised, he had failed. He had failed his brothers, he had failed both his Fathers. He had told them all that he would not give into his Mother's manipulations. And yet, like the fool he was, he had fallen strate into her trap. For the last verse described what fate she planned for her Guileless Son.  
Guileless Son, each day you grow older,  
Each moment I'm watching, my vengeance unfold,  
For the child of my body, the flesh of my soul,  
Shall die in returning, the birthright he stole...  
And Harry wept in the realisation that he had been nothing more than a pawn in his Mother's schemes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Hary now remembers his past. This ends what I ' to call "The Remeberence arch". I originally panned two archs for this stry. This one, and the nex one, "The reuinion child". I just want o thank everyone who has red, left cudosand comments so far.  
> Oer the next few chapters Harry will begin to reunite with people his past. Last chance to gess who's who.  
> Thanks reading!


	11. The aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry deals with the aftermath of remembering his life as Mordred. However, he finds this difficult to do this, as he keeps seeing ghosts of the past.

Chapter 11:

Harry sat in Buckbeak's room and cried for what seemed like hours. The memories of who he once was still echoed through his head.  
He had been such a fool.  
Hadn't he been warned. Both of his fathers, all of his brothers, and even Nimue had warned him against his mother. They had told him not to listen to her. They had told him that she was intending to use him to achieve her own goals. He should have listened to them. He should have tried and reconciled with Arthur. He should have tried to have a negotiation with him, to try and settle their differences.  
But no. Like the obedient little pawn he was, he had begun a conflict with Arthur which had resulted in countless dead. As soon as Arthur showed even the slightest amount of disagreement, he had gone on the offensive.  
He should have known that Arthur wouldn't have done such a horrible act, as to order the deaths of forty innocent infants. For years, he had watched how Arthur ruled over his people. He was kind, just, always seeking a peaceful, diplomatic solution and only resorting to violence when absolutely necessary. Arthur loved all of his people. Yes, the man did have his floors, as did all men. Yes, he was a little unfair with laws concerning magic. And yes, when the people he loved hurt him, he could turn quite wrathful. But Harry could argue that he had good reason to. The two largest examples he could think of were the betrayals of Lancelot and Guinevere, and his own betrayal.  
But had Arthur not shown Morgana mercy, even after she had used her magic to trick him into bed with her?  
And yet, Morgana repaid his kindness through the manipulation of the son who had been born of that incident, so that father and son would kill each other, and leave Britain in ruin.  
His people had died, because of him. His fathers had died, because of him. His brothers had died, because of him. Because of him, kin lay with kin in the funeral pier.  
He could still remember the image of Gaheris, the deep stab wound, with blood poring out of it like a river of red.  
Tears prickled his eyes as he thought of it.  
It was this memory which caused him to have to leave his and Ron's room so quickly. For when he had accidentally woken Ron up, and their eyes had met, Harry felt as if he was not looking into the eyes of the friend that he had met on his first train-ride to Hogwarts. No, he felt as if he were looking straight into the eyes of his youngest brother.  
But this couldn't be possible, could it? After all, if he had been reborn, why not any of his brothers?  
Harry shook his head.  
No, it couldn't be possible. Ron hadn't been having nightmares, as Harry had. No one else in Grimauld Place had been having nightmares, besides him.  
Harry again berried his face in his hands and sobbed. He could not help but feel so alone.  
Oh, why did this have to happen now.  
He thought.  
Why did he have to remember his life as Mordred, so soon after the return of Voldemort? Didn't the universe think he was suffering enough?  
"Harry?"  
Harry's head jerked up in shock. There were two people standing in the doorway. Harry had to blink and shake his head a few times, as he thought he saw two more people from his past.  
But no, it was only Sirius and Remus.  
"Hey, are you okay?" Asked Remus, sitting down beside him. Sirius soon joined him.  
"Ron told us you had woken up and were sick all over the floor." Sirius continued. "And then he said you practically ran up here."  
"I'm... Fine." Harry replied. He was of course, anything but fine, but he did not wish to worry everyone, more than they probably already were.  
"Well, if you're sure," Remus said, with a tone that told Harry the werewolf did not believe him for a second. "Breakfast is ready now, if you want anything. You better come down soon."  
"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "You don't want to spend the last day of the holidays in here, do you?"  
Harry managed a slight chuckle.  
"O... Okay." He finally replied. "But, can I... Can I have a minute?"  
"Sure," Remus replied. "Just don't be too long."  
"I won't."  
And with that, the two adult wizards left the room, leaving Harry once again alone with a hippogriff and his thoughts.  
This was getting ridicules. Not only was he seeing Gaheris in Ron, but now he was seeing Gawain in Sirius and Gareth in Remus.  
He had to admit, there were some similarities.  
Ron was loyal to his family, despite his constant complaints of feeling as if they over-shadowed him. Gaheris had always been loyal to his family. Harry remembered when he, as Mordred, had revealed the affair of Lancelot and Guinevere, even though the five brothers had agreed to keep it a secret. Gaheris had felt betrayed by this, and had hardly spoken to Mordred for a while after that. And just last year, after Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, Ron had felt betrayed by Harry, and had ignored him until after the first task.  
He and Gaheris had always been the closest, even though all of the five brothers strongly loved each other. And Ron had been the first real friend he had made at Hogwarts.  
Then there was Sirius. Just like Gawain, he had quite a temper. However, he also had a grand sense of humour, attempting to lighten the mood whenever possible. And when the situation called for it, they could both be serious.  
Remus was quieter, more reserved, just as Gareth had been. Both were kind and thoughtful.  
And did Harry not have a connection to these two men as well? Sirius had been his parents' closest friend, and was his Godfather. Remus was another one of his parents' friends, and he was also Harry's former teacher, and by far the best, in Harry's opinion. Had Sirius not straight away offered to take Harry away from the Dursleys, not even a few hours after they had begun to trust one another? And had Remus not gone out of his way to teach him the patronus charm?  
Once was a coincidence. Twice was a stretch. But three times...?  
Harry's mind swirled with feelings of hope, doubt, longing, fear, and so many more.  
He remembered what Nimue had told him upon his death.  
"... We shall rise again. We shall have another chance to rewrite the stars."  
What if what she said was true? What if, this was his second chance to right the wrongs he had committed?  
And she had said "We". What if this meant she would be reborn too? And what if, everyone he loved would be reborn? Nimue, his brothers, his fathers... All could be reborn.  
Harry suddenly felt less alone. Then, just as quickly as the feeling had come, his heart sunk with realisation.  
What if, once they remembered, they hated him? After all, he had disappointed them all by falling for his mother's traps, even after countless warnings. What if they turned their backs on him for all that he had done? He wouldn't blame them. After all, he was responsible for their deaths. Their blood was on his hands, and no amount of regret could wash it away.  
He shook his head.  
At this moment, they did not seem to remember. Maybe they wouldn't. And hopefully, if they did remember, they would also have enough memories of Harry to possibly forgive him for the crimes of Mordred. And even if they didn't, Harry felt as if he would still have Nimue.  
But that raised another question. Who, exactly, was Nimue?  
Harry thought over all the women who had been somewhat significant in his life.  
There was Hermione. Both she and Nimue shared a great amount of curiosity when it came to magic. And besides Ron, she was one of Harry's closest friends. But no, that did not feel right.  
Could it be Ginny? She had after all, once had a crush on him. But no, that too, did not feel quite right.  
Maybe Cho Chang, who he had begun to develop feelings for last year. But no, that definitely did not feel right.  
Pavati Patil, who he had taken to the Yule ball last year? But again, that did not feel right.  
Harry shook his head. Then, he remembered something else that Nimue had said.  
"... And when we rise, you and I will meet again..."  
Maybe, he hadn't met Nimue in this life yet. Maybe, now that he remembered who he once was, he would find her. After all, it had taken him mere seconds to recognise three of his brothers. But then again, he had none Ron, Sirius and Remus for years. What if he found Nimue, and didn't even know it until it was too late?  
Harry shook his head.  
He should not panic over such things. Surely Nimue, of all people, would remember their past. She, like her mother, had always had an other-worldly air about them. They had been intelligent and powerful sorceresses, and some even believed that they were descended from the fae themselves.  
Knowing Nimue, she would find him before he found her.  
Harry shook his head and decided it was time to go down to breakfast. He did not wish to worry anyone any more than they most likely already were. And who knows, he might be able to find some more people from his past.

The first to accost Harry, once he entered the dining room, was Mrs Weasley. Before Harry had even taken three steps into the room, the woman had instantly rapped him in a tight embrace.  
"Oh, Harry." She said. "Are you okay? We were so worried when Ron told us that you had been sick..."  
"I'm... Fine..." Harry managed to choke out.  
"Molly, please, calm down. You are going to choke him." Said Mr. Weasley, attempting to convince his wife to release Harry.  
Thankfully, Mrs Weasley let Harry go from her suffocating embrace. Unfortunately, he was instantly accost by the other residence of number 12, grimauld place.  
Eventually, he was able to reach the table and sit down. Mrs Weasley instantly put a giant plate of pancakes.  
"Thanks Mrs Weasley." He said.  
"It's nothing dear." Mrs Weasley replied. "I always think you come back from the Holidays a bit too thin.  
Harry smiled. He began to eat his breakfast. Unfortunately, he was only a few mouthfuls in before a new surprise hit him in the form of Hermione.  
As soon as the witch sat down in the seat opposite him, Harry was choking on his pancakes.  
"Harry, are you okay?" She asked, concerned.  
"I'm... Fine." Harry replied, sputtering.  
Of course. He should have known. Who else could it have been?  
He thought back to his earlier musings. No, Hermione was most definitely not Nimue. She couldn't be, because she was a bit to busy being Agravaine.  
Harry had a strong connect to her, just as he did to the rest of his siblings in this life. Both Hermione and Agravaine were responsible and intelligent. Most of the time, both were the voice of reason.  
Admittedly, he had not been expecting one of his brothers being reborn a sister. But he supposed that it was a possibility. He wondered if anyone else from his past would be reborn with a different gender. He did not know whether to laugh or shudder in horror as he thought of his father, Lot, being reborn as a woman.  
Finally, he was broken out of his thoughts by Ron joining them at the table. This time, Harry was able to very quickly push down his writhing emotions upon seeing his youngest brother.  
"Hey Ron. Sorry about earlier." Harry said.  
"It's okay." Ron replied, beginning to eat his breakfast. "But Merlin's beard, you really scarred us."  
Harry flinched in shock upon hearing the name of the wizard who had ruined so much. He could feel his hand shaking as he clenched his fist around his cutlery.  
"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"  
Harry's eyes snapped up to see that both Gaheris and Agravaine... Errr, Ron and Hermione, were staring at him in concern.  
"I'm... Fine." He managed to say.  
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "You've just gone really pale."  
"It's nothing." Harry replied.  
He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself.  
Of course. How could he have forgotten. The wizarding world practically worshipped Merlin. The bloody sorcerer had his own order, for crying out loud.  
His stomach turned at the thought.  
How could history remember such a man in such a positive light? After all, countless sorcerers had died at his hand. And last he was aware, Merlin had died at his own hand. So the sorcerer couldn't have influenced how history remembered him.  
Then who was there, to portray Merlin Emrys as some sort of magical hero?  
Then the thought struck him. If Merlin was remembered, why not everyone else? Harry knew the fact that Arthur was just as idolised in the non-magical world, as Merlin was in the wizarding world. Though, Harry was not quite familiar with any of the legends concerning Arthur.  
Harry did not know why, but he was suddenly curious to see how he and the people he loved were remembered. Maybe he could be able to figure out who provided the accounts of what occurred during the time of Camelot.  
Or maybe he was just masochistic.  
He wondered where he would get this information. Then he thought that, if anyone were to have this information, it was the witch sitting in front of him.  
"Hey, Hermione?" He began.  
"Yes?" Hermione replied.  
"Well, I've been thinking. You know how I've been having bad dreams lately?"  
She nodded.  
"Well, i was thinking that maybe my dreams are a result of Voldemort being back."  
"Yes, that does make sense." She said.  
"Yeah, well," He continued. "I was thinking that, maybe I need something to, you know, help distract my mind from this for a bit. And I was thinking of maybe reading a book or something."  
"That sounds like an excellent idea." Hermione replied excitedly. "There is nothing like a good book to help your thought processes..."  
"Oh, bloody hell." Ron muttered. "Look what you've done."  
"I can think of so many that might be able to help you..." She continued.  
"Yes, well," Harry interrupted. "I was thinking of something specific. You see, I have always been fascinated but old legends, like, King Arthur? But I've never been able to find any good sources for any of the stories. I was wondering if you had anything that about King Arthur."  
Hermione blinked.  
"Umm... Well," She began hesitantly. "Harry, if you're trying to cheer yourself up, I highly doubt that King Arthur could help you. I mean, it doesn't exactly have a happy ending."  
"That's okay." Harry replied. "I'd take almost anything at this rate."  
"Well," Hermione replied. "I will see what I've got."  
"Thanks." Harry said, smiling.

A few hours later, Hermione came to him with a giant book.  
"Here," She said, handing the monstrosity to him. "My parents gave this to me a few years ago. It's a compilation of all of the legends and a history of the different variations."  
"Bloody hell." Ron muttered upon seeing it. "Do I even want to know how quickly you got through it?"  
Hermione blushed.  
"Well... It took me about a month."  
Ron rolled his eyes.  
"Let's hope this lasts Harry for the year."

Once everyone had gone to bed, and Harry could hear Ron's snores, Harry began to read. He of course, did not read the entire thing. He mostly focused on the people he cared about, such as his fathers, brothers, Nimue, his mother, and himself.  
He was astonished.  
Many of the key events were still there. However, many of the reasons and finer details had been altered. He did not know if this was due to the source of the information, or the author having taken several creative liberties.  
Lady Vivien was now interpreted as most definitely being one of the fae. She was often described as literally coming from the lake.  
He was amused to see that in one legend, Merlin was believed to be the bastard off-spring of a demon. He was also amused to see that Merlin was believed to be trapped in a tree by his apprentice, Nimue. However, he was less amused upon reading that Merlin was supposedly "infatuated by Nimue". The mere thought of Merlin even looking at Nimue in such a way made his skin crawl.  
It appeared that legend had split his mother into two different women. Morgan Le Fay, who was the one to plot against Arthur, and Morgause, who was the mother of his brothers and himself.  
He was amused by the tale of Gawain and the Green knight. Mostly because in this, Morgan had had the plot of killing Guinevere through the power of shock. His mother may have been insane, but she would not have thought of such a ridicules plan.  
He was extremely thankful for the privacy wards when he read the story of the Holy Grail.  
Yes, Galahad had been a Christan. And yes, at times he could be a self-ritches prick. But this... This was too much. Harry honestly had trouble picturing his friend being pulled to Heaven in a beam of light. Though, he did not know what happened to him, so it was possible something like this did happen.  
However, what troubled him the most were the stories concerning himself.  
In every single tale, he was portrayed as an evil traitor, as a usurper, and as a monster. He couldn't say that he was not expecting such a thing. But, he had had many supporters. And in the moments before his death, he had seen that many of his soldiers had survived that terrible battle. Surely some of them would have had something nice to say about him?  
But no. No matter what the tale, he was always the villain. The destroyer of all. Arthur's bane.  
How could this have happened?  
The answer came to him as soon as he reached the part when Arthur left to pursue Lancelot, leaving him in charge of Camelot.  
Guinevere, he thought.  
Of course. She had been in the safety of Camelot during the battle. She would have had a perfect view of Camelinn from their chambers. As the only remaining ruler of Camelot, she would have had the power to dictate how the earliest records of that time were written.  
And, according to Guinevere, it had been he, Mordred, who forced her into marrying him.  
Harry scoffed.  
She had truly out-done herself. Not only was he remembered as the villain, but in the majority of the tales, her affair with Lancelot was treated as some sort of romantic tragedy. Harry honestly thought that Sir Tristan's infatuation with his uncle's wife, (Which is surprisingly, one of the only stories which was almost completely accurate), was more tragic. At least he could resist his urges.  
Harry closed the book and put it aside.  
Maybe Hermione was right. Readying about Arthur was not helping him with his emotions.  
However, one thought still floated in his mind.  
In many of the legends, it is said that, in Britain's greatest need, Arthur would return from where he slumbered on the isle of Avalon.  
Harry thought that if Britain had a great need, it was now. Voldemort had returned, and the people who were meant to run the country were refusing to believe the truth. Surely it was time for the return of what the legends called, "The Once and Future King".  
Maybe that was why he was remembering his life as Mordred now. Because it was finely time for old heroes to rise again. Not that he was much of a hero.  
He turned onto his back and looked at the dark ceiling.  
Maybe, this was his chance. Maybe, if he found Arthur, they could band together to defeat Voldemort and save the wizarding world from the dark wizard who had plagued it for decades.  
Harry could only hope that, once Arthur and he were reunited, he could forgive him for all that he had done.  
Harry could feel it in his heart that the only way for them to be strong enough to defeat Voldemort permanently was for he and Arthur to reconcile. He could only hope that they could do this before it was too late.


	12. More powerful than death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds someone he had once lost, but he also finds much more than he barganned for.

Chapter 12:

The next day was the beginning of term. Thankfully, for the first time in a long time, Harry had actually slept soundly. He thought that maybe this was due to him finally remembering that he was once Mordred, and that therefore he no longer needed to revisit key scenes from his previous life. Or maybe the universe had finally decided to give him a break for once. Either way, Harry was thankful.  
Harry was upset at having to leave two of his brothers once more. However, he was still thankful that he would still have his other two brothers... Errr, siblings, even if they were yet to regain their memories, if ever. He really needed to get used to thinking of Agravain as a girl, and therefore a sister, not a brother.  
After the Hogwarts express left the station, Ron and Hermione had to go to the prefect's carriage, leaving him with Ginny to find somewhere to sit.  
"Come on," Said Ginny. "Let's go find a compartment before they're all taken."  
"Yeah, okay." Harry replied.  
He was secretly hoping to bump into Nimue on the train. However, with his luck, he highly doubted that he would find her so soon.  
It did not take them long to run into someone who was all too familiar in more ways than one.  
Oh, bloody hell,  
He thought upon seeing the person.  
It took him every ounce of self-restraint not to go running for the hills. He had to shake his head a few times.  
No, this is Neville.  
"Errr, Harry?" Asked the boy shyly. "Are you okay?"  
"Yeah, just a bit dizzy from the train." Harry lied.  
"Okay." Neville replied unsurely.  
"Come on," Ginny said. "Have you found anywhere to sit Neville?"  
"Errr, no." Neville replied. "Everywhere is full."  
Ginny went to the compartment that Neville had just passed and opened the door.  
"Come on, the only person in here is Luna. She's in my year, but Ravenclaw."  
"B but..." Neville stammered. "I..."  
"Don't worry." Ginny replied.  
She stepped into the compartment and he and Neville followed. Harry suddenly felt a sense of anticipation.  
"Hey, Luna, do you mind if we sit here?" Ginny asked.  
The face of the girl inside was blocked by a magazine that she was apparently reading up-side-down. However, there was something about her that reminded Harry of... Something.  
The girl, Luna, gestured for them to sit.  
"So," Ginny asked, attempting to break the tension. "How was your summer Luna?"  
The girl finally put down her magazine, and took of some strange looking spectacles.  
Harry's breath court in his through. His eyes shone with unshed tears. He could hardly think.  
Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. There was absolutely no way that he was this lucky, in either of his lives. There was no way he could have found her this soon.  
But, there was something deep inside of him tell him that she was indeed, who he thought she was.  
Maybe whatever higher power there was had finally decided to give him a break. Or maybe, due to all his bad luck, he had accumulated quite the cosmic debt of good luck, which is being paid off now. Either way, Harry was not complaining.  
It took him all the restraint he had to not go over to her, and once again hold the one he loved with all of his heart.  
"It was well." Nimue... No, Luna, replied. "I think I am coming close to finding the crumple-horned snorkack. I believe the nargles will be leaving me a hint on the astronomy tower tonight."  
She looked at Harry as she said this.  
"The wrackspurts seem to be clearing from your head. Do not worry, they will soon clear from other's minds. However, the ones whom are more infected are closer than you think."  
Harry smiled at the use of the old code.  
"Yes, tell me, how soon do you think the wrackspurts will clear?"  
Both Ginny and Neville looked at him strangely.  
"You understand this." Neville hissed to him.  
Harry shrugged.  
"I'm just going along with it." He replied.  
"Oh, it won't take long for some." Luna replied. "I think I will have to discuss this with the nargles later when I find my hint to the crumple-horned snorkack."  
Harry smiled. He knew that they both must sound insane to Ginny and Neville, but he didn't care. He was now going to reunite with the one he loved, on the astronomy tower that night.  
Throughout the train ride, his thoughts were a jumble with shock, joy, fear, regret, and many other emotions.  
He could not stop thinking about what he had seen. Out of all the people for him to be... Neville?  
Harry had known the boy for four years. He had shared a room with him, gone to lessons with him, eaten meals with him.  
Neville was many things. He was good at herbology. He had a kind heart. He was brave when the time truly called for it...  
On second thought, he could actually see the resemblance when looking at him carefully.  
Harry was really, really not sure how to feel about this. He supposed that he won't be sleeping as easily.  
From what Harry had observed, Neville hasn't seem to have remembered just yet. But what will happen when he does?  
Harry should have known that it would be someone close to him, someone he had known for a while.

Eventually, Ron and Hermione joined them. Harry thought it was strange, to have so many people from his past in one location, with only Ginny being the exception. It was almost amusing, as he did not think he had seen all four ever in one location, in such close proximity.  
The amusement only grew when the compartment door opened to reveal one of the most unexpected rebirths.  
Oh, for all that was good and holy... Malfoy, really? Malfoy?  
It was hard to connect the git that had harassed him for the past four years, with the person he now saw.  
The thought was so amusing, that he could not control a laugh from bursting out of him. Instantly, the slytherin scowled.  
"What are you laughing at, Potter? I might want to be careful if I were you. For you see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect. So I, unlike you, have the power to give out detentions."  
"Yes, well," Harry retorted. "You, unlike me, are a self-ritchous prick."  
Everyone, excluding Luna, were looking at him in surprise.  
Hermione nudged him.  
"Umm, are you sure that "Self-ritchous", is the right way to describe him?"  
Harry chuckled.  
;Oh, you'll see."  
Malfoy huffed and stormed out of the compartment. Luna grinned at him and winked.  
"The wrackspurts haven't quite left his head yet." She whispered.  
Harry grinned.  
"Oh, but I can't wait to see what happens when they do. Maybe he'll finally grow up and stop complaining to daddy for everything."

Eventually, they reached Hogwarts. Harry was momentarily surprised to see thestrals pulling the usually horseless carriages up to the school.   
He remembered his mother, Morgana, telling stories about these creatures that can only be seen by those who have witnessed death. He supposed that the carriages must have moved somehow, and that he must only be seeing them now, due to him having only now seen death. Or, remembered seeing death. Did it count if he had seen it in a past life?  
Harry shook his head and followed Ron and Hermione into a carriage.

Upon entering the Great Hall, he felt a sudden sense of foreboding, as if something horrible were about to happen. He sat down at the Gryffindor table with his reborn siblings. As they waited for Professor McGonagall to arrive with the first-years, his gaze slipped to the staff table.  
Hagrid wasn't back yet. Wonder where he is? Surely he would have arrived with the first-years? But oh, that's right, he hadn't seen the half-giant calling out for the first-years.  
There was Professor Flitwick, talking to Professor Sprout. McGonagall was of course, going to meet the first-years. And then... Oh, what the... No way...  
He had to blink a few times.  
Snape? Snape?  
He shook his head again.  
Out of all the people... Snape?  
But snape had hated him from day one? Though, from what he had heard over the years, it had been because the potions master had an old school quarrel with his father from this life. But now... Harry was more inclined to think that he sub-conciously hated him because of how he had failed him back in his days of Mordred.  
But seriously? Snape?  
He shook his head and continued to look at the staff table. Some old toad dressed in pink. Hey, hadn't she been at his hearing? Strange, she being here. Wait... Was she the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? She didn't look like much. Well, moving on... Oh, no. No, no no no no no no no... No...  
It can't be. Why here? Why now?  
Harry felt his fists clench so tightly that he could have sworn his nails drew blood, but that was not currently on his mind.  
Out of all the people... Why did it have to be him?  
He supposed he now knew why he had reacted so badly to him coming to his hearing. But oh... Why...?  
"Harry, Harry?"  
He blinked, turning his gaze away from the staff table and the one he feared and hated most. Ron was shaking his shoulder. Both the red-head and Hermione looked at him with concern.  
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost, and not the ones here."  
"Nah, you look like you just saw You-Know-Who appear in the middle of the hall." Ron retorted.  
"I... I'm fine." Harry replied weakly.  
He looked over to the Ravenclaw table where Nimue... Luna, sat. He looked into her eyes, then briefly flicked his gaze back to the staff table. She got his message, nodded, and put a finger to her lips before shooting him a reassuring glance.  
Thankfully, at that moment, Professor McGonagall arrived with the first-years.

After the feast, all anyone could talk about was the new teacher, professor Umbridge. Harry himself did not know what to think about her. He found her interrupting Dumbledore was quite amusing. But on the other hand, her little speech had been as confusing and convoluted as well... His old lullaby.  
Upon entering the dormitory, he saw that Dean and Seamus had already arrived and were in the process of unpacking their trunks.  
"Hey," He said.  
The two instantly fell silent.  
"Oh, hey." Dean said. "Good summer?"  
"It was okay." Harry replied.  
"Must have been better than Seamus's." Dean said.  
"What do you mean?" Asked Neville.  
Seamus was silent for a long time. Finally, he responded.  
"Me Mam didn't want me to return to Hogwarts." He said.  
Harry blinked.  
"Why?" He asked, dreading the answer.  
Again, Seamus was silent for a long time.  
"She umm... Reads the daily prophet."  
"Oh." Harry replied.  
He knew that once, he would have been insulted by this. But now, with all of his memories as Mordred, this information did not effect him as strongly. After all, the prophet may have people thinking him a lying lunatic, but it was better than being remembered as the inbred bastard son who killed one of legends greatest Kings.  
"You've got to be joking?" Ron retorted. "She actually believes that rubbish that Harry's a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"  
"Just leave it Ron." Harry said as he began to unpack his belongings.  
All four boys blinked and looked at him.  
"What?" Ron asked, surprised. "You're just going to... Going to let him say that his mum thinks your..."  
"Ron." Harry said calmly. "I am perfectly fine. Seamus's mum will believe what she believes. If she wants to be one of the sheepeople, then I'm not going to stop her."  
"What did you just call me Mam?" Seamus asked indignantly.  
"I called her one of the sheepeople." Harry replied. "People who follow the media like sheep."  
"Well I..." Seamus began, but he was cut off as Harry lifted a hand and shot him a cold stair.  
"Don't." He said. "It is late, and I am tired. Just go to bed, okay? I am not insulting your mother, I am merely stating a fact. And the fact is, that people are to easily effected by the media."  
Seamus huffed and stormed out of the dormitory into the bathroom.  
"Just so we are clear," Neville began. "Both my Gran and I believe that the prophet is a complete pile of rubbish."  
Harry's lips managed to twitch in a small smile.  
"Thanks, Neville." He said.  
"Your welcome." Neville replied. "But... Does anyone here know how to put up privacy wards?"  
Harry blinked.  
"Why?" He asked, dreading the answer.  
"It's just," Neville began. "Over the summer I was... Errr, having some really bad dreams and errr... Screaming, in my sleep."  
"What kind of dreams?" Harry continued, his heart sinking to somewhere around his naval.  
"I don't know." Neville replied. "There all blurry. But, I do remember there's this king... And a sword..."  
Harry's stomach suddenly lurched.  
"And you've been having these dreams all summer?" He asked.  
"Yeah." Neville replied. "They began just after the end of last year."  
"Hey, Harry's been having bad dreams too." Ron said before Harry could stop him.  
"Really?" Neville asked, wide eyed. "That's strange."  
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Well, I've learnt how to do privacy wards if you want me to help you?"  
"Thanks." Neville replied as Harry drew his wand.

Harry waited until he could hear that the others were asleep. Then, he quietly got out of bed. He had gone in still dressed in his robes, so he didn't have to get changed. All he needed to do was to get his invisibility cloak from his trunk and put it on.  
Quietly, he left the dormitory. He walked through the common-room and out of the portrait hole.  
It was relatively easy to go from the common-room to the astronomy tower. He supposed that she had chosen this specific location, as it was private and easily accessible from both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common-rooms.  
All throughout his journey, he was full of a nervous anticipation.  
The last time he had seen her was his vision as he died. But was that really her, or just his sub-concious. He thought it was her, but now he was not so sure.  
Would she still love him, after all that he had done? Could it be possible that, during her life as Luna, she had learnt of his actions through the many legends, and would therefore have a slanted idea of what really happened? Would this change her feels towards him? He wouldn't blame her.  
Would she blame him for her death?  
He had many regrets from his life as Mordred. Betraying Arthur, giving into his mother's manipulations, and causing all of Britain to fall into civil war were only a few. However, one which still remained to be as his greatest, was not being able to prevent Nimue's death.  
Her death, his failure to protect her, was truly the turning point for him.  
There were many points in the last days of his life which could be seen as the Catullus for what he became. The discovery of his heritage, him revealing the affair of Lancelot and Guinevere, Arthur leaving in pursuit of the lovers... Maybe, things were set in motion as early as Merlin ordering him and the other thirty-nine infants be sent out to sea?  
However, what Harry felt was what truly set him on his dark path, was Merlin's murder of Nimue. If not for this, then he would not have felt the need to seek vengeance against Guinevere, by revealing her deepest darkest secret to Arthur, who wouldn't have then pursued her and Lancelot to Francia, which wouldn't have led to his mother coercing him into taken the throne for himself, which would, upon Arthur's return, result in their civil war...  
It all made Harry's head turn.  
Finally, he reached the stairs leading up to the astronomy tower. Every step was harder than the last. His mind swelled with feelings of anticipation, fear, hope, and so many more.  
Finally, he reached the top. He took a deep breath and opened the door.  
She was there, standing with her back to him, looking out over the grounds. He walked to her.  
"You came." She said, turning to him.  
"Of course." He replied. "An army couldn't keep me away."  
She smiled.  
"Well, you have kept me waiting, my tarnished silver."  
Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.  
"I am sorry to keep you waiting."  
He finally reached her.  
"So, what do I call you now?" He asked. "Would you prefer your old name or your new one?"  
She shrugged.  
"Nimue, Luna, it does not matter to me. We are one and the same. I have had my memories long enough to adjust. But, I do think it best if you call me Luna in public."  
He smiled.  
"Okay then. But, do you think you could call me Harry. It's just, I'm still adjusting to the old memories."  
She smiled.  
"It is fine. A rose by any other name would smell just as sweat."  
Harry smiled.  
It was in that moment that neither could hold themselves back any longer. They met in an embrace that was full of love, joy, and hope. And when their lips met, it was as if he had found a peace of him that he had not even known he had been missing. In that moment, he could not tell who he was. Was he Harry, the boy wizard whom everyone seemed to think was an insane liar? Or was he Mordred, the bastard son of Arthur Pendragon and his half-sister Morgana Le Fay? Was he kissing Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw student who was in the year below him? Or was he kissing Nimue, the daughter of Vivien, the Lady of the Lake of Avalon?  
He did not know, and nor did he care. She was right, their names did not matter. They were still the same souls, she was still the same young woman whom he loved with all of his heart, and he thanked whatever higher power there was everyday for her.  
Now that he had her, he felt as if he would never be alone again. He felt as if, for the first time in a long time, he had found his home. He had found where he was supposed to be.  
Their kiss lasted for a long time, though he had no way of knowing if it lasted for an eternity or just for a few seconds. However, eventually, they had to part for air. When they did, they still held each other in a tight embrace. He could feel her breathing, her heartbeat. He could smell her hair, her skin. It made him feel things that he could not even put into words.  
She rested her head on his shoulder.  
"Oh, I have waited so long for this." She said. "Fate and magic have finally brought us back together."  
Harry was unable to hold back the torrent of tears which had been waiting for so long. They flowed down his face in little rivelets like raindrops. When she felt them hit her head, she looked up.  
"Shhh, do not cry my love." She said, wiping the tears away.  
"I cannot help it." He replied. "I... I cannot believe this is happening."  
She smiled.  
"I told you that when we rise, you and I would meet again." She said. "And so we have."  
He shook his head.  
"No, it's just... I am still amazed you would take me."  
She blinked.  
"Of course. I will always have you. You are mine, and I am yours. I love you, just as I always have and always will."  
"Even after all that I have done?" He retorted, looking down.  
She put a hand under his chin and lifted his head to face her.  
"You were only doing what you thought was best. You only wanted to set magic free." She said gently.  
He shook his head.  
"So many have died because of me. I... I have failed you, I failed all of you. I was unable to overcome my mother's manipulations."  
"Shhhh." She said, stroking his hair. "It will be alright. You are not the villain here, you are only another victim of Merlin and Morgana's fight for power."  
He sucked in a deep breath.  
"i forgive you." She continued. "The fact that you feel remorseful for what you did shows that you are not a monster."  
He shook his head.  
"I... I was unfaithful to you." He said, his heart filled with so much regret.  
She raised an eyebrow.  
"Unfaithful?"  
"Yes, I... I married Guinevere, a week or two before Camlann..."  
She nodded.  
"Yes, I am aware of this."  
"You are?" He asked, his heart sinking.  
She merely nodded.  
"Tell me, what was the reason for this marriage."  
He blinked in surprise.  
"It was part of the deal, for King Leodigrants to send reinforcements, I had to marry Guinevere."  
"And were you intimate with her?"  
He blinked again.  
"No, never." He replied.  
"Then I do not see how you have been unfaithful to me." She told him calmly.  
Harry frowned in confusion.  
"But I..."  
"You only married her out of desperation." She said. "I am not upset. Though, I do feel you went a little far by striking her."  
He looked down.  
"I'm sorry. It's just... She was making me so angry and... And then she tried to appeal to my good side by talking about you and... I guess from that and the pressure of the war... I snapped. I know that is no excuse for striking a woman, but..."  
She put a finger to his lips.  
"Do not worry." She said gently. "I understand, you were mentally unstable from all of the pressure you were under."  
He chuckled bitterly.  
"Maybe what they say now is true. Maybe I am insane."  
She shrugged.  
"Who is to say who is and who isn't insane. Maybe we're the only sane ones and the rest are crazy."  
They both laughed.  
She stepped out of the embrace, but still held his hand in hers.  
"Come, we have much to discuss."  
He let her lead him to one of the low benches, where they could sit and look out over the grounds. They sat side by side, their fingers intertwined.  
"So," He began. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you remembered?"  
"Since I was around nine." She replied, a hint of sadness in her tone. "There was an incident, my mother from this life loved to experiment and... Something went wrong. She died, and I... I began to remember..."  
He squeezed her hand reassuringly.  
"I'm sorry.." He said.  
She shook her head.  
"It's fine. I'm glad it happened."  
She smiled.  
"It meant that, from the moment I first saw you, I could recognise you."  
"You could?"  
"Yes." She replied. "But I could also see that you had not yet remembered who you were. And so I had to wait."  
He sucked in a breath.  
"Are you able to recognise anyone else?"  
She nodded.  
"I am able to recognise everyone. I know that you are close friends with two of your brothers, or should I say siblings? I know that a couple years ago, another one of your brothers was our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I know who both your fathers are, and I know that you have an apparent rivalry with Galahad. However, I also know that known of them have remembered yet."  
"And what about...?" He began, but stopped, as he was afraid of the answer.  
She looked down.  
"Yes, I know who Merlin is."  
"And, do you think he remembers?"  
She shook her head.  
"Yes and no. I believe he remembers, but thankfully, he does not seem to be able to recognise us, as I believe we would have both been dead a long time ago."  
"And how long do you think he's remembered?" He continued.  
She shook her head.  
"A while. Long before either of us were reborn, I think. It would explain a lot."  
He nodded.  
"Like why he seems to want to have a lot of important positions, in the Wizengamot, in the ICW, and in Hogwarts. And why he never wanted to be minister. Why be the leader, when you can be the puppet-master in the shadows?"  
She hummed in agreement.  
"So, when do you think the others will remember?"  
"Well, I believe you already know of one who is beginning to remember." She replied.  
He thought for a minute, then sighed.  
"Yes, he's been having dreams just as I had. But, for some reason it seems to be taking him longer."  
"He lived longer than you did." She retorted.  
"Good point." He replied. "It's just, I'm scared about what will happen once he does."  
She looked into his eyes.  
"Yes, the two of you have much to work through."  
He scoffed.  
"That is a true understatement."  
He then sighed.  
"But honestly, what am I to do? He most likely will still hate me for betraying him."  
She frowned.  
"Yes, he may be angry with you for what happened. But, let us not forget what exactly he said to you before he died."  
He scrunched up his eye-brows.  
"He said that he was sorry he was not able to save me from my mother and that... That he..."  
"That he loves you." She replied.  
He shook his head.  
"But how do we know if what he said is still true?"  
She put a hand on his knee.  
"Death, is a truly powerful force." She began. "However, there is a much, much more powerful force. Love. Love can go on, even after death. We are proof enough of that. Love has brought us together again."  
"But do you truly think that he will forgive me after all that I have done?" He asked.  
"I do not know." She replied. "All I know is, that he will be important in what is to come. The only way for us to successfully rewrite the stars is for the two of you to band together. Once, you were destined to kill one another. Now however, you must fight together to ensure that we do not repeat our fates."  
Harry scoffed.  
"Then we are doomed."  
"Do not be so quick to give up." She said. "I have never known you to be an easy quitter."  
He sighed and looked down.  
"Why is this even happening now?" He found himself asking.  
"What do you mean?" She asked.  
"This, remembering, not that I'm not thankful to remember you again. It's just... Why did all this have to happen just after Voldemort returned?"  
She shook her head.  
"Oh, can you not see? This is happening because Voldemort returned."  
He blinked.  
"What do you mean?"  
She looked at him seriously.  
"Our love may have passed into this life. But so has the rivalry of the two who were most responsible for our horrible fates."  
He blinked in confusion for a few seconds. Then, it dawned on him.  
His hands began to shake. He found he could hardly breath.  
"You... You don't mean to tell me that...?"  
"I am afraid so." She replied.  
He shook his head and chuckled bitterly. Of course, his life could never be that simple.  
He could not help but see the irony. In his first life, he had been manipulated by his mother to be a weapon against Merlin. Now, he was being manipulated by the one who used to be Merlin into being a weapon against the person whom used to be his mother.


	13. Mending ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins to try to mend ties with people from his past.

Chapter 13:

It was late when Harry and Luna were forced to finally part to return to their respective dormitories. By the position of the moon in the sky, he estimated that it was around 1:00 a.m.  
Despite this, he still felt as if it was far too soon. After so long, he had found a peace of him that he had not even known he was missing. And now he was forced to leave that part of him, even if only for the night. She had assured him that they would see each other the next day.  
Still, it was unfortunate that they were both in different years and in different houses. It made interacting with each other that much difficult. Thankfully, they had already discussed when they could meet again in private.  
Another thing that they discussed was how to behave in public. As far as anyone knew, they had only just met on the train. Therefore, it would seem strange if they were suddenly in a romanic relationship. Hence, they were forced to act as if they only had a budding friendship between them, until enough time had passed for them to begin a public courtship without anyone getting too suspicious. Harry could handle this, as having her back was enough to satisfy him. After all, their relationship had been like this in Camelot, as public displays of affection were greatly frowned upon during such times. He could handle having to wait a month or two before being able to show his feels for Luna in public.  
He felt that the only hard part would be to keep his relationship a secret from his friends and siblings. Despite them giving him hardly any information during the summer, he knew that they had only done so because the old puppet-master was forcing them to.  
Speaking of whom, Harry had many, many thoughts about Dumbledore.  
After much thought and discussion with Luna, it became apparent that the old wizard had very likely gained his memories somehow. Neither knew how. Luna hypothesised that something tragic must have happened to him earlier in his life to trigger his memories, just as hers had been awakened by her Mother's death.  
Harry did not care how tragic the event was, as it seemed that Dumbledore felt not one bit of remorse for his actions. Worse than that, he was up to his old tricks again.  
Looking back on his life, it was apparent that Dumbledore had been manipulating him this entire time. From the moment that his parents had died to the return of Voldemort, Dumbledore had been preparing him as some sort of weapon.  
They theorised that Dumbledore had seen him, an orphan hero, and decided to control him as he had once controlled Arthur.  
In his first year, Dumbledore had hid the hers Stone behind obstacles which could easily be defeated by three first years. He should have easily sensed that Quirrell had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head. And he could have easily gone from his office, to the ministry and back again in a matter of minutes. But no, instead he decided to fly there and give him time for fall into the trap of confronting Voldemort. And then, instead of punishing his friends and him for breaking several school rules, he rewarded him with house points and the victory of the house cup.  
In second year, Dumbledore could have easily hired someone from the ministry to investigate the situation with the petrified students. Surely, if a thirteen year old muggle-born could figure it out, someone who had lived in the magical world for years could have as well. Even without the added variable of Harry being a parselmouth and him hearing voices all over the place, there was enough evidence to identify the monster as a basilisk. Dead was everywhere, spiders fleeing from the castle, and hello, Slytherin's monster. What other creature would it be if it wasn't snake related?  
They even had a witness in the form of Myrtle.  
Dumbledore had been at Hogwarts the last time the chamber had been opened. He would have known that she might have some idea of where it came from at least.  
But no, Dumbledore left it up, yet again, to three students. The school had almost shut down, but it was worth it in Dumbledore's mind if it meant he could still use his little puppet.  
Even when he wasn't a! the school, Dumbledore was still manipulating him. After all, he had sent fawkes along with the sorting hat.  
Harry had almost laughed when he thought of how he had pulled Gryfindore's sword from the hat, just as Arthur had pulled caliburn from the stone so long ago.  
Dumbledore had been the chief warlock on the Wizengamot. Therefore, he would have bore witness to all of the death-eater trials. Surely, if Sirius was seen as one of Voldemort's greatest supporters, then surely his trial would have been a high priority, even during those confusing times just after the war. And surely a trial would have revealed that Sirius had been innocent and that Petagrew had been the one who betrayed the Potters. So therefore, Sirius wouldn't have ended up in Azkaban.  
However, as Harry and Luna thought about it, it seemed that this may not have been the case. A sudden feeling of horror hit Harry as he came to the terrible idea that Sirius had been sent to Azkaban without a trial. Harry knew he had to ask Sirius about this. If he hadn't, then Harry would have another reason to hate the old fool. He absolutely hated the thought that his eldest brother had been imprisoned for almost twelve years without even a trial, due to the manipulations of Dumbledore.  
And last year, oh...  
Dumbledore had been one of the judges. He had been one of the people meant to guard the goblet of fire. Surely he would have been able to detect when someone was tampering with it, to make it spit out four names instead of three.  
And then, how could he have not noticed that the cup had been turned into a portkey? Surely if he was so powerful, he could have noticed something like this.  
Even Harry's constant holidays in hell, AKA the Dursleys made sense. Dumbledore knew that they abused him. He knew that they hated him. He knew that, after all that he had been through, the last place Harry needed to go was to the Dursleys.  
But he did not care. Dumbledore was using the negative environment of the Dursleys to make him seem like some sort of sanctuary.  
Well, all of that was now null and void. Now, Harry could see through the lies and manipulations. He and Luna had unwoven the web of deceit and had cut the puppeteer's strings. Dumbledore intended to use him to destroy his enemy, just as he had done with Arthur.  
But Harry was no longer blind. He had played this game before. And this time, he intended to win.

When Harry reached the portrait hole, it was thankfully easy to get back into the common-room. The Fat Lady was too drowsy to realise that he was breaking curfew. She merely muttered something, half asleep, and swung upon when he told her the password.  
He quietly went up to his dormitory, where the other four were still sleeping. Quietly, he put away his invisibility cloak and got into his pajamas.  
As he lay in his bed, his head still raced with thought. He turned to looked at Neville's bed, where the teen had drawn his curtains shut.  
Luna had said that he would most likely be the next to remember, and that, if they were to succeed in changing their fates, then he would have to ally with him.  
Harry was dreading when Neville would finally remember his previous life. Harry wondered if Neville would even be able to recognise him. If not, would he have to tell Neville who he was? Harry almost laughed at the thought.  
"Oh, hi Neville. I know all about those dreams you've been having. And guess what, I'm your long lost inbred bastard son/nephew. Don't worry, I don't have any hard feelings about you skewering me with a spear if you don't have any hard feelings about me stabbing you. Oh, and by the way, sorry about the whole, you know, stealing your kingdom, starting a civil war, and marrying your X. But hey, no hard feelings, right?"  
Yeah, that was going to go down very well.  
Harry shook his head. It was better not to worry about this now. And anyway, he needed to get some sleep.  
Maybe if he tried to be nicer to Neville now, then once he did finally remember, his memories of Harry would be enough to balance out the memories of Mordred.  
It was a long shot, but he had to try. Their lives literally depended on it.

The next morning, despite his going to bed late, Harry managed to get up pretty alert. He looked around the dormitory to see that Seamus was avoiding his gaze, quickly getting dressed and his stuff ready for the day.  
He looked to see that Neville did not appear to have slept well, if the shadows under his eyes were any indication.  
"Hey, Neville," Harry began. "You okay?"  
"Wa?" Neville said, startled. "Oh, yeah, I'm okay."  
He took a deep breathe. He had to do this. He quickly got dressed and walked over to Neville.  
"Hey, about last night," He began. "Thanks for saying that about me after Seamus... You know..."  
Neville's head popped out of the top of his robes to reveal that his face had turned a light shade of pink.  
"O oh, it was nothing."  
Harry smiled.  
"No, really. It was very brave of you. I mean, after how everyone was looking at me last night, it's nice to know that at least someone's in my corner."  
Neville's blush deepened.  
"Thanks."  
"Hey, I've been think," Harry continued. "You're always sitting on your own and, I thought that maybe you would like to sit with Ron Hermione and I. You don't have to, I just thought you might want the company."  
Neville looked down.  
"You don't have to feel sorry for me." He muttered.  
Harry shook his head.  
"No, that's not why. I genuinely want to try to be your friend."  
He put a hand on Neville's shoulder.  
"You're a great wizard Neville, you just have trouble being confident enough to show it. You showed just how strong you can be last night. And remember in first year when you tried to stop Hermione Ron and I from going down the third floor corridor? And what about earlier that year when you tried to warn us about mouth's scheme? Those are only a few examples."  
Neville looked down, obviously embarrassed.  
"I I was only trying to do what I thought was right."  
"Exactly." Harry replied, smiling. "You have it in you, you just need to learn to be more confident."  
He looked down.  
"What happened last year, with Cedric and everything, it made me realise that we need to treasure the good people in our lives, as we never know when we might lose them."  
Neville looked down for a long time.  
"O okay, if Ron and Hermione don't mind."  
Harry smiled.  
"I'm sure they won't."  
They then went to leave the dormitory. Ron was waiting at the door.  
"Hey, Ron, you don't mind if Neville hangs with us?" Harry asked.  
Ron blinked in surprise. Then, much to their surprise, he smiled.  
"Sure." He replied.  
Neville's smile grew a little more confident.  
They walked down the stairs to where Hermione was waiting for them. The witch raised an eyebrow when she saw Neville with them, but she didn't comment.  
"Hey, Hermione," Harry began. "Neville's going to hang with us, okay?"  
Hermione smiled.  
"Okay." She replied.  
The four left the portrait hole and began to walk down to breakfast. Harry's spirits had lightened considerably. Things going as planned. He was assimilating Neville into his circle of friends and Ron and Hermione were okay with it. Now all he needed to do was to help the relationship between himself and Neville to strengthen. And he had an idea of how.  
"Hey, Neville And I were talking," He began, addressing Ron and Hermione. "You both think he's a good wizard, don't you?"  
"Sure." Ron replied. "I mean, yeah he's not the best at magic and he sometimes seems a little afraid of well, everything..."  
Harry shot him a glare.  
"But," Ron continued, a little nervous at Harry's glare. "You're brave when the situation calls for it. Remember that time we beat up Malfoy Crab and Goyle at the Quidditch game? I mean, you did get nocked out cold, but at least you stood up to them."  
Neville smiled.  
"And I must admit," Hermione began. "You might not be good at spell casting, but you have got to be the best at Herbology."  
"Really?" Neville asked.  
Hermione smiled.  
"If you were a bit more confident, I believe you could even be top of the year in the subject."  
Neville looked down in embarrassment.  
"Tha thanks." He muttered.  
They reached the great hall. Harry saw Luna sitting at the Ravenclaw table. He smiled at her and gestured to him going to sit with Neville. She smiled and nodded her head in encouragement.  
The four sat at the Gryfindore table.  
"Hey, maybe we could form a little study group." He suggested. "We could help each other with our homework. And hey, Neville, since your such an expert with magical plants, I thought you could help me with something."  
"Really?" Neville asked.  
"Yeah." Harry replied. "My Aunt used to always make me tend her garden, and I was curious if it was possible to cross-breed any magical plants with non-magical ones."  
Neville smiled, and it appeared to Harry that he became more confident.  
"Yes, that does seem very interesting." He began. "It would be interesting to see if we enhance the health benefits of vegetables by cross-breeding with some forma of magical plant..."  
And so they began discussing the possibilities. Much to Harry's delight, Neville was leading the conversation, with some suggestions from him and the other two, such as when Ron suggested the try to find a way to make vegetables taste better, without reduce the health benefits.  
They were actually enjoying themselves. Then, professor McGonagall came around with the timetables.  
Ron groaned.  
"Great, History of Magic, Potions, divination and Defense Against the Dark Arts. What a Monday."  
Harry shrugged as he looked over the timetable.  
"I was actually thinking of skipping History of Magic."  
Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice.  
"Harry," She said sternly. "You can't just skip History of Magic."  
Harry shrugged.  
"Hermione, Bins never notices who is and who isn't in his class. I'm pretty sure he never does the roll, and all he does is go on about goblin rebellions."  
"Yes, but.." Hermione tried.  
"Everyone falls asleep in that class, and it is honestly a waist of time." He continued. "We could just as easily teach ourselves, and still probably get a good grade."  
"Well I..." Hermione tried again, but then she deflated. "I guess you're right."  
Harry smiled.  
"Great, so how about we go up to the library and do some real studying?"  
"Great." Ron said, grinning. "Why didn't we think of this before?"  
"We would still have to see what we have to cover." Hermione argued. "Remember, we do have our O W Ls this year."  
"Don't worry," Harry argued. "I'm sure the library has some old files on what the course covers."

And so, once the first lessons began, the four walked into the library. They first went looking for old course outlines for fifth-year. However, once they did, they realised that they were frightfully unprepared for the O W Ls.  
Ron groaned.  
"How are we meant to learn all of this in one year?"  
Hermione was also frowning.  
"I can't believe that this could have gone on for so long. Surely someone, Dumbledore, could have noticed."  
Harry looked over the many topics that they should have learnt over the past five years. Yes, first and part of second year did cover the goblin rebellions. But they also covered other topics. While the witch-trials had only briefly been touched upon during homework after second year, the entire topic was meant to be the primary focus for third year. Then there were many over topics, such as the ancient order of Celtic sorcerers, the druids, the augurs of Rome and many other orders of magic in the ancient world. And then... Oh...  
"Harry are you okay?" Neville asked.  
Harry's hands were shaking. Neville took the list of topics from him and read through them. Then, his gaze ,reached where Harry had just been looking, and he, too, turned pale.  
"Hey, are both of you okay?" Ron asked.  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry replied.  
"I... I don't know why I feel this way." Neville replied. "I mean, I've heard these names plenty of times before, but they've never made me feel like this."  
"What are you looking at?" Hermione asked, snatching the list from Neville.   
She looked at where he had been looking.  
"It says here that we are supposed to be starting this year on the conflict between Merlin Emrys and Morgana Le Fay, the two most powerful sorcerers of the ancient world."  
Both Harry and Neville flinched at the names, though he could tell that only he knew why.  
"What is wrong with you two?" Ron asked.  
"Nothing." Harry replied.  
"I don't know." Neville said, confused. "I've heard those names before, but I've never had this reaction."  
"Wait, where did you hear this?" Harry asked.  
Neville shrugged.  
"My Gran used to always tell me stories about Merlin and Morgana, and how they were two of the most powerful sorcerers to ever live, even more than the founders."  
He smiled.  
"She used to always say that everyone thought Dumbledore was some sort second coming of Merlin, and that they were stupid for thinking that, as Merlin could easily beat Dumbledore."  
Harry had to grin at the irony.  
"Well, seeing as we have a lot to catch up on, maybe we should all pick a topic, take notes and share them with the rest." He suggested.  
The other three nodded in agreement.  
"Great," Harry said, smiling. "I for one are curious about these ancient orders. And seeing as it seems like such a big topic, Neville, would you like to join me?"  
"Err, sure." Neville replied.  
Harry smiled. This was much easier than he thought.

Once the bell went for the next lesson, the four of them packed up their books and what notes they were able to gather and went down into the dungeons.  
Harry was nervous. This would be the first time he would be in such close proximity to Snape after regaining his memories. Snape was usually unbearable, due to his constant harassment. In his old life, he had been a harsh man and a tough teacher. But now... It seemed that he had become an even stricter teacher.  
Harry was not sure if Snape would regain his memories, though Luna seemed to imply that eventually he would. Oh, that would truly be an awkward day. Though, Harry thought that he should at least try to mend whatever ties he had to the man, as he knew that he would need as many allies as possible if he and Luna were to rewrite the stars. And even without that excuse, he still wished to reconnect with the man that was once his father, even after the years of bullying.  
He, Neville Ron and Hermione sat at a table near the back of the room. Snape entered the room, his cloak bellowing in the same overdramatic fashion. He began the lesson by telling them, very strictly, about the standards expected of them to achieve an O W L in this subject. Harry had to suppress a chuckle. Once a hard task-master, always a hard task-master.  
Harry thought it was strange, to have both people who were once his fathers in the same place. It was even stranger to see one of them, once so brave and strong, afraid of the other.  
Even after all these years, Neville was still frightened of Snape. Whenever the professor would pass them, he would shrink back in fear. Harry attempted to comfort him with a reassuring smile.  
Before, Harry had never understood why Snape was so strict. He always thought that it was just because the teacher was mean.  
But now, after his memories of Mordred, he realised that, while Snape was still a little too mean, being strict was necessary. In many of his childhood memories, when Morgana would teach him how to brew different potions, she would always tell him to be careful, as potion brewing was a delicate art and that the slightest mistake could have disastrous results. Part of him was still surprised that she even let him learn such a delicate art, as there was always the risk of him seriously hurting himself. And heaven forbid something happened to her precious Guileless Son.  
Thanks to his memories as Mordred, he felt that he had become better at potion brewing. After all, Morgana had been very careful in ensuring that he could preform a wide variety of magical disciplines.  
Once he was done, Hermione stared at his caldron in shock. He didn't blame her, this potion looked better than his usual concoctions.  
"Harry," She began. "Since when are you good at potions?"  
Harry shrugged.  
"Don't know."  
Just then, Snape approached, his cloak bellowing behind him. The potions master sneered down at the caldron, but Harry could have sworn that there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.  
"What's this Potter?" Snape sneered. "Finally decided to put in some effort?"  
Before, Harry would have most likely replied with a snarky remark, which would have resulted in the lose of points. That was another thing. After his memories as Mordred, Harry realised that he was partly at fault for feeding the flames of conflict between himself and Snape with his constant disrespect of the professor. Harry decided to change his behaviour, and at least be somewhat civil to him. After all, despite Snape's attitude problems, the man had saved him on more than one occasion. And anyway, he was trying to mend bridges, not burn them.  
"Well Professor," He began, attempting to sound respectful. "I guess that recent events have made me wish to not want to waist my time when I could be learning something valuable."  
Snape continued to sneer, but the man walked away without even taking a single point.  
"Blimey." Ron said in surprise. "Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?"  
Harry shrugged.  
"This summer I guess I have gained a greater respect and appreciation for things that I have previously taken for granted."

For the rest of the lesson, he continued to help with Neville. He suggested that, to get over his Snapephobia, Neville try to imagine happy thoughts while preparing the potion, so that he may stay calm during the task at hand. At the end of the class, Harry told his friends that he wanted to stay behind for a little bit. The three looked at him suspiciously, but left without a comment.  
When Harry was the last in the classroom, Snape sneered at him.  
"What are you doing Potter?" He asked suspiciously.  
Harry shrugged.  
"I just wanted to say something."  
"Well, go on and say it, I don't have all day." Snape snapped.  
Harry sucked in a deep breathe.   
"I just want to say, I think we got off on the wrong foot." He began. "I mean, yeah you did ask me those difficult questions during the very first lesson, but I could have handled it a bit better."  
He sucked in a breathe.  
"From what I've heard, you had a rivalry with my father. I only ask that you do not deliver the sins of the father upon the son. I'm sorry that my dad and you never got along, but please, can we stop this constant conflict between the two of us. Yeah, you could try to be a bit less mean at times, but I understand now that you need to be strict, as potion brewing can be very dangerous. I guess now I actually respect you for putting up with all this for so long. And, sorry for being so disrespectful in your lessons, but in my defense, you were targeting me specifically."  
"Does this have a point?" Snape asked.  
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Can we pease start over? I promise to try harder in my lessons if you try to easy on the throttle and stop punishing me for my father's crimes."  
Snape leveled him with a cold stare for a long time. Finally, he replied.  
"Fine. was He said. "But I will be holding you to that."  
Harry smiled.  
"Great, thanks."  
Harry turned to leave. However, before he left the door, he turned to face Snape again.  
"Oh, and professor?"  
"What?"  
Harry grinned.  
"You work so hard, I think you deserve a holiday."  
Snape raised an eyebrow.  
"And where do you think I should go?"  
Harry's grin widened.  
"Have you ever been to Orkney? I hear it's wonderful this time of year."

Once he reached the entrance to the great hall, he saw that Luna was waiting for him, holding what appeared to be a large plate of food.  
"Hey," He greeted.  
She smiled. Then, without a single warning, she grabbed him with the hand that wasn't holding the food and dragged him to the doors leading outside.  
"I thought we could have lunch out near the lake." She explained. "Somewhere private where we could chat."  
Harry smiled and walked beside her.  
"Here let me take that." He said, taking the large plate of food from her.  
"Oh, such a gentleman." She said, chuckling.  
He attempted a dramatic bow, but it was difficult as he was attempting to balance the plate and ensure that none of the food fell off. This caused Luna to laugh even more.  
Soon, they reached the lake and sat under a tree that was one of Harry's favourite spots. There was hardly anyone around, so they could discuss private matters without anyone accidentally overhearing them.  
He lent back against the tree, Luna next to him with the plate in between them.  
"So, how was your morning?" He asked.  
She hummed.  
"It was fine, obviously not as eventful as yours."  
Harry smiled.  
"I have begun to assimilate Neville into my friend-group. I am hoping to build a strong connection between the two of us, before he regains his memories. So that if he is unable to forgive me for my actions as Mordred, he still may have memories of me as Harry to combat the bad memories."  
Luna smiled.  
"That is a good idea. The two of you need to work together, and while I still feel that he still loves you, regardless of what you did, it would still be wise to establish to good connection in this life."  
Harry smiled, then sighed.  
"I believe that he will remember soon." He began. "He is already beginning to feel uneasy whenever someone even says the names Merlin and Morgana, when he tells us that he never had such a reaction before."  
He played around with some peaces of cheese on the plate.  
"During my hearing at the ministry, Dumbledore came in and I completely froze. I do not know if I should compare the reaction of a name to the presence of the man himself, but it could still be an indication."  
He continued to play with the food.  
"I also seemed to remember a different part of Morgana's lullaby whenever my dream contained a seen which correlated with a particular part, the verse about how Arthur was a thief when Gawain first went to Camelot and Morgana felt that he was trying to take her sons from her, the verse about Guinevere after she betrayed you and I began to plot my revenge against her..."  
He looked down at the plate. Luna her and on his. He looked up to meet her eyes and smiled.  
"Anyway, if he's reacting this badly to Morgana, perhaps it's because he's reached the point when there began to be conflict between the two of them, maybe around the time of my conception."  
Luna hummed in agreement.  
"It would make sense. This is the first time the two of you have seen each other since the dreams began, so it would make sense if you were to enter the dreams."  
Harry nodded.  
"Yeah, I mean, I did first dream of you after the dementor attack, when I most needed something positive."  
Luna smiled and pushed his shoulder. Harry chuckled.  
"So, I estimate that he will remember around mid to late October, maybe even late November."  
"Perhaps you could ask him how much he remembers of his dreams?" Luna suggested. "Did you remember anything from your dreams before you remembered everything?"  
Harry frowned in concentration.  
"Well, I did have a general idea about what happened in the dream, even if I didn't remember the fine details like names and face. I even began to keep a journal."  
He rummaged through his bag and pulled out his journal. He handed it to Luna, who began flipping through it. After a few minutes, she handed it back to him.  
"Maybe you could suggest he keep a journal." She suggested.  
"Maybe." He replied.  
They sat in silence for a few minutes.  
"I've also reached out to Snape." He began.  
Luna hummed.  
"It will be a bit hard, due to the conflict between us from the past few years." He continued. "But I've extended the olive branch and have talked to him. I will be less disrespectful to him as long as he tries to stop using me as a verbal punching-bag."  
Luna smiled.  
"Good." She replied.  
Harry smiled, though there was a note of sadness in his eyes.  
"Will he ever remember his past?"  
Luna nodded.  
"Eventually, everyone will remember." She replied. "We just need to wait for the last of the most important players to remember. Once Neville does, the rest will soon follow."  
"Good." Harry replied.  
He then sighed and looked down.  
"What do I do Luna?" He asked. "He had warned me time and again to not give in to Morgana's manipulations. And yet, I failed him."  
Luna put a hand on his shoulder.  
"Do not worry." She said. "He will forgive you. Even if he does not remember yet, he loves you."  
Harry scoffed.  
"I highly doubt that he loves me now. He's horrible to me."  
Luna frowned.  
"Yes, he has been quite cruel. But I believe this is only due to his current life, and has nothing to do with his previous life."  
Harry was still unsure. Luna lent over and pecked a kiss on his cheek.  
"Do not worry my Tarnished Silver. Once he remembers, he may still be angry, but he will forgive you. Both of your fathers will forgive you."  
Harry smiled.  
"I'm holding you to that."  
She chuckled.  
Harry quickly checked !o see if any were watching. Then, once he made sure the cost was clear, he wrapped an arm around her and drew her into his side. She lent against him, her head on his shoulder. She could feel her hair tickling his chin.  
As he looked over the great lake, his love by his side, he temporarily felt his troubles drift away. He has made the first steps. Now, he needs to work on mending the ties between himself and the ones he cares for from his past.


	14. Brothers in solidarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is shaking things up, in more ways than one.

Chapter 14:

After lunch, Harry once again parted with Luna to go up to the North tower for Divination.  
He was not looking forward to this class. Before, it had been more of a joke class than anything else. Harry had never taken much stock in predicting the future.  
Now, he absolutely hated the concept of prophecies. In his previous life, it had been a prophecy which had caused the chain of events which led to his and Arthur's downfall. If not for the prophecy, then Morgana would never have manipulated him from birth to destroy Arthur and Merlin would never have sent him and the thirty-nine infants out to die.  
Thankfully, Professor Trelawney seemed to be little more than a fraud. He ignored the little nagging feeling in the back of his mind which reminded him of how she had predicted Petagrew's escape at the end of his third year.  
Once he reached the platform under the trapdoor leading to the classroom, he found the rest of the class waiting. Neville and Ron instantly saw him and beckoned him forward.  
"Hey, where did you go?" Neville asked.  
Harry grinned sheepishly.  
"Sorry. Luna kidnapped me for lunch."  
Ron frowned and scratched his head.  
"That Ravenclaw fourth-year from the train?"  
"Yeah." Harry replied.  
Ron then grinned, which caused him to bare a striking resemblance to the twins, or even his past self as Gaheris when the two of them would sneak around their father's castle as children.  
"Really? Mate, do you think she fancies you?"  
Harry attempted to hide his grin. Oh, Ron did not even know the half of it.  
"Ron, we only met yesterday. I suppose she just wants a friend at the moment." He simply said. "Anyway, I actually think she's pretty cool."  
"She's kind of... Well, strange." Neville muttered. "But I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Just sometimes she can be a bit... Well, creepy..."  
Harry chuckled.  
"Yeah, she can seem like that if you don't know her that well. But hey, being strange is good. It just makes you more interesting."  
Before their conversation could continue, the trapdoor opened and the rope ladder fell down.

Yet again, Harry invited Neville to sit with him and Ron at one of the circular tables. This time, the shy boy seemed more comfortable with the new arrangement. Harry saw this as good, as this may indicate he was becoming closer to the group.  
Harry kept this minor win in mind as Professor Trelawney entered the classroom in her usual shawls airy demeanor.  
"Ahh, my dears, it is good to see you all once more." Trelawney began. "I must admit, I was not sure if any would return this year."  
Harry rolled his eyes. Looks like she wasn't going to be slow with her predictions of terrible deaths this year.  
His reaction was shared by many of the other students. However, Pavati and Lavender, who were probably some of the only people who took Trelawney seriously, gasped.  
"Why Professor?" Pavati asked.  
"Oh, I am afraid that my inner eye has been clouded as of late." Replied Trelawney.  
She looked around the classroom with large eyes.  
"I fear that this year, this subject may be particularly difficult. For you see, in my many years, never has the future been so clouded. The stars do not speak to me and the future is uncertain." She said dramatically.  
Harry rolled his eyes again. Looks like she's got tired of predicting a student's death and has found another way to try to get people interested.  
"Do you know what is causing this?" Lavender asked, sounding a little scared.  
"Oh, how I wished I could see." She sighed. "But alas, all that is able to be seen behind the fog are mere figures..."  
She closed her eyes. Pavati, Lavender and a few other students lent forward in curiosity. Harry just sat in his seat and rolled his eyes. Maybe he should secretly do some homework in this lesson, because it didn't seem like Trelawney was going to be getting anything done.  
"Shades... Old souls... Rising for retribution and redemption..."  
Harry raised an eyebrow. This was actually getting interesting. However, he also began to feel a shiver go down his spine. Where was this going exactly.  
"And at the centre of it..."  
Trelawney then opened her eyes suddenly. Her orbs, magnified by her glasses, stared straight at Harry.  
"Is the Guileless Son."  
Harry froze. He could hardly breath. He thought he heard muttering from around the room. He thought he felt both Ron and Neville shaking him. But all he could hear were those two words.  
"Guileless Son."  
The name that his mother used to call him. The child that was once destined to kill Arthur and also be killed by the High King.  
"Harry? Harry!"  
The two words echoed in his mind. Then, his old lullaby began to play in his mind.  
"Shall die in returning the birthright he stole." He muttered.  
"What?"  
He looked up to see Ron and Neville staring at him with concern in their eyes.  
"Oh, nothing." Harry replied, attempting a laugh. "Sorry, Trelawney was just freaking me out."  
"Okay." Neville said slowly.  
"Your not actually falling for her rubbish?" Ron asked.  
Harry shook his head and smiled weakly.  
"Course not. I'm just... Surprised that she didn't predict that I'm going to die horribly or something. Guess she's try to change things up a bit."  
"Okay." Ron replied.

For the rest of the lesson, Harry's mind was reoccupied with the memory of Trelawney strange proclamation.  
What did this mean?  
Yeah, at times Trelawney seemed like nothing more than a crack-pot. But there was enough evidence to suggest that, at times, she did indeed have the gift for foresight. The words that she had said in her proclamation were enough evidence alone.  
Shades... Old souls rising for retribution and redemption? That sounded like Harry's current situation.  
And how else would she have known that name?  
Was he really the cause of the future being unclear? This would actually be a good thing, as his goal was to rewrite the stars. Seers not being able to see the future should act as an indication that things are changing.  
In the end, he decided to discuss this with Luna. Maybe she would have an idea of what this all meant.

After Divination was their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with the new teacher. He Neville and Ron met Hermione outside of the classroom door.  
"Hey," Hermione greeted. "Harry, where did you go at lunch?"  
"He was kidnapped by his girlfriend." Ron replied teasingly.  
Harry punched his shoulder jokingly.  
"Luna, just wanted to have lunch with me outside." Harry replied. "I think she just wanted to make friends."  
"Oh," Hermione replied. "Well, that's okay."  
Soon they, along with the rest of the class, entered the classroom. This time, he didn't even have to offer for Neville to sit with them. The boy automatically joined them at a table close to the back.  
The room was soon filled with muttering.  
"Wonder what this professor is going to be like." Ron muttered.  
Harry shrugged.  
Soon however, the room fell silent as the toad like woman, Professor Umbridge, entered the classroom.  
"Settle down children, settle down." She said in a high pitched girlish voice.  
This was rather unnecessary, as the room was already silent.  
"Good morning class." She continued.  
There were a few mutters of "Good morning".  
"Now now, that will never do." Umbridge said. "So it again."  
"Good morning professor Umbridge." The class replied, unenthusiastically.  
"There, that's better." Umbridge continued, smiling.  
"Now, to my understanding, you have had many changing in teaching for this particular subject. This has obviously caused some inconsistences in your education, which was not helped by teachers who were not quite up to standard or..."  
She wrinkled her nose.  
"... Were more of a danger to you than a teacher in defensive skills."  
Harry clenched his fists. He got the sneaking suspicion that she was insult Professor Lupin. He had to resist the urge to jinx the woman on the spot, as he hated it when people insulted his brothers, especially when they were not present to defend themselves.  
Harry's sentiments were obviously shared by the vast majority of the class, as it appeared they were also holding themselves back.  
"However," Umbridge continued. "This year, I have attempted to correct this by constructing a ministry approved course outline."  
She pulled out a rather short and stubby wand and tapped the blackboard at the front of the room. Words began to appear.  
Harry fought back a sneer as he read the new course outline. Oh boy, this was definitely going to be a doozy of a year.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione was about to raise corner hand, but he stopped her.  
"Harry, what?" She muttered.  
"Don't." He whispered. "We don't want to start trouble in the first five minutes."  
Hermione looked like she was about to argue, but their conversation was interrupted.  
"Is their a problem?" Umbridge asked in her sickeningly sweet girlish voice.  
"No Professor." Harry replied quickly. "I just broke my quill of was asking Hermione for a spare."  
Umbridge scrutinised him for a few seconds, but then her gaze flickered away.  
"After you are done copying down the course outlines, please open your books and begin reading Chapter One, Basics For Beginners. There will be no need for talking."  
Harry opened his text book and began reading the chapter. He managed to read the first page, but that was as far as he got before he had to stop, lest he throw the book across the room in frustration.  
He knew that before, he might have already. However, his memories as Mordred actually assisted in making him less prone to violent outbursts and more likely to think about what could result from his actions. He would most likely get into trouble if he tossed his book across the room. He would also get into trouble if he burnt it, threw it out of the window, or launched it into Umbridges face.  
But seriously, what was she, or the ministry playing at? This book taught them nothing about actually defending themselves with magic, or anything really. It was just several hundred pages of rubbish. Morgana wouldn't have even used it as a torture device. She would have been more likely to call it an abomination and a disgrace to magic, and then proceeded to burn it. And Harry had to admit, he was tempted to do the same.  
He was broken out of his fantasies of burning horrible books by Hermione raising her hand.  
"Is there something wrong, Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked in her sickly sweet voice.  
"Professor," Hermione began. "Neither this book, nor the course outlines, so anything about actually using defensive spells."  
Umbridge giggled.  
"Use defensive spells. Why would you need to use defensive spells?"  
"To protect ourselves." Hermione replied  
Umbridge giggled again.  
"And why would you need to protect yourself in my classroom?"  
Harry decided to come to his friends aid. However, he was going to tackle this diplomatically and calmly. He was not going to act like a hot-headed Gryffindor.  
He raised his hand.  
"We may not need to defend ourselves in the classroom, but we will need to in the outside world." He began. "It is dangerous out there. There are dangerous creatures, wizards who can and will use magic to harm you, hell, even Muggles can be dangerous if they have certain weapons. It's a dangerous world out there and we need to know how to defend ourselves against such dangers."  
There were mutters in the classroom. Many of the pure-bloods were wondering what danger a muggle could possibly be, to which many of the muggle raised students answered by listing several models of guns and other various weapons. However, Umbridge was glaring at him. Harry could have sworn that he had replied as diplomatically as he could.  
"You believe there are dangerous wizards out there Mr Potter?" She said, her girly voice taking on a dangerous tone.  
Harry shrugged.  
"Well, yeah. I mean, if there are dangerous muggles there must be dangerous wizards, right?"  
"Do not act ignorant with me." She hissed. "I know exactly what you are implying."  
Harry raised an eyebrow.  
"And what would that be?"  
"You are implying the same lie that you and Dumbledore were spurting last June." She replied. "And I will not tolerate such lies in my class. He-WhoMst-Not-Be-Named is dead. Young Mr Diggory's death was a tragic accident."  
"No!"  
Harry, as well as the entire class, turned in surprise to see that Neville had stood up from his chair in anger. This was strange, as he was usually not confident enough to even speak in class, let alone draw attention to himself in such a way.  
"I beg your pardon, Mr Longbottom?" Umbridge said in a falsely calm voice.  
"I do not believe that Harry would have lied about such a thing." Neville continued. "Cedric Diggory was murdered by You-Know-Who, and Harry saw it. Trying to pretend anything else is a disgrace to his memory."  
Harry stared in amazement. He had never seen Neville with such confidence. It was quite strange. In that moment, he looked less like the shy boy he had known for four years, and more like the man he once was... More like the King that so many had fought for...  
"That, is a lie." Umbridge replied. "Mr Diggory was obviously a child who was in over his head, and to arrogant to recognise when he could not win. He was a foolish child who was incapable of handling something meant for adults..."  
Harry could feel rage coursing through his vanes. He could not stand this any longer. It was one thing to hide the truth. But this...?  
Harry got out of his chair and stood beside Neville in solidarity.  
"No!" He said loudly and clearly. "I cannot sit here while you insult such a great man. Cedric was good, kind, loyal, noble, and one of the best students to ever walk these halls. He was humble, intelligent and embodied everything that Hufflepuff stands for. If the bards of old still existed, then they would sing praises of him for generations to come. Cedric Diggory was a great man, and I will not sit here while you insult his memory. He was killed by Voldemort, and you are the liar by denying this."  
"Enough!" Umbridge screamed.  
She breathed heavily for a few seconds, before looking up and smiling sweetly at him, with a cold undertone to her gaze.  
"Detention, Mr Potter. And for you as well, Mr Longbottom. Tonight in my office."

At the end of the lesson, he and Neville were the first ones out, quickly followed by Ron and Hermione.  
"Blimey." Ron said, staring at both him and Neville. "You two were... Well, I kind of expected it from Harry, but Neville..."  
Neville blushed.  
"I don't know what came over me. It's just, I couldn't stand her saying those things about Cedric..."  
He looked down.  
"Gran's going to kill me when she that I got detention on the first day."  
Harry put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
"Don't worry. You can just send an owl explaining how exactly you got the detention. I'm sure she'll understand. She may even be proud that you stood up for what you believe in."  
Neville's blush deepened.  
"Thanks."

During dinner, it was obvious that word of the confrontation had spread, as practically half of the Hufflepuff, including professor Sprout, had come over to him and Neville and had thanked them for defending Cedric.  
"It was mostly Harry." Neville had muttered.  
"Don't be modest." Harry argued. "You defended him to, and you were very brave doing it."  
Throughout the entire meal, Neville's face was a constant red with embarrassment.  
After dinner, he and Neville walked to Umbridge's office.  
Neville was twiddling his fingers nervously.  
"Don't worry." Harry told him. "It will be fine. And hey, at least you're not alone in this."  
Neville smiled.  
"Thanks."  
They entered Umbridge's office, and Harry had to resist the urge to be sick. Every last inch of wall was covered in pink, and the furniture wasn't much better with it's pink lace. There were also plates with little kittens on them. The whole image made Harry feel like he was about to throw up.  
Thankfully, he was broken from his thoughts of vomit by the toad herself.  
"Good evening." She said in her girlish voice, smiling deviously at them.  
"Good evening." They both replied.  
"Now, please, sit."  
Umbridge indicated a desk where two seats sat side by side. They approached the seats and Harry sat on the one to the right, while Neville took the one to the left.  
Umbridge presented them with parchment and a strange looking quill each.  
"Tonight you will be writing lines with these... Special quills."  
Both teens exchanged confused looks, then took a quill each.  
"You will be writing, "I must not tell lies"."  
"How much?" Harry asked.  
"Oh, just until the message sinks in." Umbridge replied with another grin.  
"But there isn't any ink." Neville argued.  
"Oh, you won't be needing ink." Replied Umbridge.  
SUCKING in a deep breath, he began writing. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Neville was doing the same.  
As soon as he finished the first line, he felt a stinging pain in his right hand. Neville gasped and clutched his own right hand.  
"Is there something wrong?" Umbridge asked from her desk.  
"No." Harry replied quickly.  
He squeezed Neville's wrist reassuringly.  
"Don't let her see your pain." He muttered to Neville. "Right now, she is the enemy. And you should never let the any see you hurt, as it will only bring them joy."  
Neville nodded.  
"Thanks."  
The continued writing the lines. Harry was pretty sure that the quills were enchanted, as they seemed to be using their own blood, and they left the imprint of the words "I must not tell lies", in their hands. It hurt, but it was nothing to the pain that he had suffered, both as Harry and as Mordred. At first, Neville was less successful at hiding his pain. However, it appeared that he was taking Harry's advice. Harry found this ironic, as it had been Neville's past self who had taught Harry past self that lesson in the first place.  
After what felt like hours, Umbridge finally called for them to stop. She examined both of their hands.  
"Tisk tisk, it appears the message has not seemed to have sunk in quite yet." She said. "Well, hopefully it will tomorrow night."  
"What?" Neville asked in surprise. "But... I thought that it was only for tonight."  
"Oh no," Umbridge replied, grinning. "I have organised for the two of you to have detention with my all nights this week. This way, the message will sink in. Well then, good night."  
Harry wanted so desperately to punch that toad right in her face, regardless of whether or not it was rude to hit a woman. However, he simply grabbed Neville by the wrist and left the office.

As they were walking back to the common-room, Neville was rubbing the back of his hand where the words had been carved into his flesh.  
"I cannot believe she actually did that." He said.  
Harry shrugged.  
"Well, I'm not surprised. She seems like the kind of person who likes torturing her victims."  
Neville frowned.  
"This isn't right. What if she does it to other students?"  
Harry sighed.  
"What are we going to do about it? You've seen how ineffective the teachers at this school are."  
Neville's frown deepened.  
"Yeah, I know. But we still need to do something. I could owl my Gran..."  
"And what will that do?" Harry retorted.  
"She... She could get in contact with other parents." Neville suggested. "If enough parents hear that their child could get subjected to writing lines with their own blood..."  
"What, Umbridge will get kicked out?" Harry asked. "Neville, she's with the Ministry. It's a little hard for a bunch for parents to fight the government."  
"Well, what do you suggest?" Neville retorted.  
He turned to Neville.  
"We need to stand up for ourselves." He replied. "We have to stop relying on teachers and parents to do what needs to be done. This is our school, and we need to show the Ministry and that horrible toad of a woman that we will not take it lying down."  
"What do you mean?" Neville asked nervously.  
"Haven't you noticed?" Harry asked. "Because Fudge is in denial about Voldemort being back, he's trying to take over Hogwarts. He's trying to make us weak by making us learn from books that teach us nothing, and by having Umbridge torture anyone who disagrees."  
Harry sucked in a deep breath.  
"Nothing happens until you make it happen. The students are the ones who need to fight, not the teachers, not the parents. Us."  
"B but what can we do?" Neville asked.  
Harry walked over to him and grasped his upper arm.  
"Alone, we can't do anything. But united as one, we may stand a chance. And even if we don't win, at least the showed those idiots at the Ministry that it will take more than an overgrown pink toad to push us down."  
Neville looked up, fire in his eyes.  
"Lets do this, for Hogwarts, for Cedric, for our freedom."  
Harry smiled.  
"Let's not be to fast. We have a lot of planning to do."  
Neville smiled.

Once everyone was in bed and asleep, Harry once again put on his invisibility cloak and went to the astronomy tower.  
As he went, his thoughts were plagued by Umbridge. He really, really did not like her.  
She was just so patronising, controlling, and she gave him the same disgusting feeling that he used to get from Merlin.  
And that voice. Oh, it was horrible. It sounded like a strange mixture of how Morgana used to speak to him as a child, and how Guinevere spoke to him when she was attempting to seduce him on their farce of a wedding night. It made Harry's skin crawl just thinking about it.  
Finally, he reached the top of the astronomy tower. Luna was already sitting there, her hair reflecting the moonlight.  
When she turned to face him, her eyes were full of concern. When he approached, she immediately held out her hand.  
"Show me." She said.  
"What?" Harry asked.  
"Show me your hand." She replied.  
Harry was not sure, but he could have sworn she seemed angry. So, he simply complied and presented his right hand to her.  
She inspected it, then traced the outline of the words with her finger. Harry attempted, and failed, !o hold back his flinch.  
"It's fine." Harry said through gritted teeth. "Just Umbridge...."  
Luna scowled.  
"That..."  
She muttered several unladylike words in old-english, Latin, and Gallic.  
"No, seriously," Harry continued. "It's fine, I've suffered worse."  
"That is hardly comforting." She retorted.  
Harry sighed and wrapped his other arm around her.  
"Don't worry, both Neville and I have had the same thing. But oh, you should have seen him today."  
He proceeded to describe the events which took place during the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Luna of course, had already heard about it thanks to the Hogwarts Rumour-mill, but she had not yet heard about it from an actual witness.  
By the end of the story, both of them were smiling.  
"This is wonderful." Luna said.  
"Yes, I know." Harry replied. "I don't know if it's the result of his dreams, or me reaching out to him, or both, but he's becoming more confident."  
Luna smiled.  
"He will soon become the leader that both of you need to be."  
Harry shook his head.  
"No, I'm no leader. The last time I was in charge of something, I ended up running it into the ground."  
Luna shook her head.  
"Both of you must stand together if we have any hope."  
Harry grinned.  
"Well, I think that our fates are already changing. Today, in Divination, Professor Trelawney told the entire class that it was really hard for her to see the future. I don't know, but evidence suggests that maybe this is because of us."  
"Oh?" Luna asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Yeah," Harry replied. "She kept going on about shades and old souls rising again for retribution and redemption, and that... That at the centre of it was... Was the Guileless Son..." He trailed off.  
Luna squeezed his left hand reassuringly.  
"This is good, my tarnished Silver. Everything is going to plan."  
Harry smiled, but then looked down at his right hand.  
"Yeah, but what are we going to do about Umbridge?"  
"Do not worry." Luna replied. "We will think of something."  
Harry smiled. The winds of fate were changing, Neville was becoming more confident, and they were standing together. Everything was going to plan.


	15. Of plans and courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is going according to plan for Harry. Neville is finally becoming more confident.

Chapter 15:

The next month was both enjoyable and agonising for Harry.  
He and Luna continued their nightly meetings, even when both were exhausted. They would talk about everything and nothing. While they did continue discussing the progress of their plans, they also made time to simply enjoy each other. At times it felt as if they were back in Camelot.  
One thing that kept coming up in conversation were the two allies of the past who did not exactly get along with him at the moment. While Harry had begun to try to reach out to them, it was hard going and sometimes frustrating.  
It would appear that his conversation with Snape had led to the potion's master having a long, introspective thought about himself, as he had slowly but surely changed significantly. Whereas before he would tell off any non-slytherin student at the drop of a hat, he was now more patient with the majority of students, including Harry himself. Now, instead of yelling at students who made mistakes... Well, he would still get angry, but at least he was actually explaining what they had done wrong instead of simply taking points and throwing out detentions. Harry thought that this was an improvement. Especially since Neville had finally stopped staking from head to toe every time he entered the dungeons.  
The interactions between the professor and Harry were for the most part civil. He was at least succeeding in holding up his end of their bargain and not being disrespectful in class. But by no means were they anywhere close to considering each other allies. Thankfully, Luna told him that, once Snape gained his memories, things would become better between the two of them. Harry was still unsure, considering the reason why the older man had died in the first place, but Luna was persistent and he had to hope.  
The other, harder problem was Malfoy.  
In retrospect, Harry did not know how to feel about his old ally and friend. On one and, he had been one of the people who convinced him to usurp Arthur's throne in the first place. However, he also understood his reasoning, and knew that he had been thinking of what he thought was best for Britain, and had wanted what many had wanted. Also, in those hard, stressful months, he had been his greatest ally besides his brothers. He had been Mordred's greatest confidant, and had greatly assisted him in the deadly game of politics.  
And while Harry considered his old self as a friend, he thought of Malfoy as a pratt.  
Luna had told him that the Slytherin still needed to clean all the wrackspurts from his head. Harry, on the other hand, saw a great resemblance to how his old friend had described himself when he was younger, before he had witnessed his mother's death. While Harry wanted his old friend back, he also did not want him to suffer such a painful experience again.  
Luna had suggested to wait until Malfoy regained his memories. However, Harry could not help but approach him, to get the ball rolling at least.

It was about a week into the new term. Harry was waiting in a broom cupboard just outside the Great Hall. He was hoping that the blond would not be accompanied but his usual cronies.  
Here he came. And, yes, no Crab or Goyle in site.  
Before Malfoy could enter the Great Hall, Harry had quickly grabbed him by the robes with one hand and had clapped his other hand over the blond's mouth.  
"Wa..."  
"Shhh," Harry whispered. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."  
Harry dragged him into the broom cupboard. Once he had released Malfoy, the blond turned and glared at him.  
"What are you playing at Potter?" He spat.  
"I just wanted to talk." Harry replied calmly.  
Malfoy sneered.  
"What could you possibly want to talk to me about?"  
Harry shrugged.  
"I was just wondering, you seem to be in support of Voldemort."  
Malfoy continued to sneer.  
"Of course..."  
"But why?"  
Malfoy blinked.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Why do you support Voldemort?"  
Malfoy actually began to splutter.  
"Well, I..." He spluttered. "He's trying to cleanse this world of people who are unworthy of magic?" He said it as more of a question.  
Harry raised an eyebrow.  
"Oh, and who decides who is and who isn't worthy of magic?"  
Malfoy continued to splutter.  
"I... The Dark Lord... My Father..."  
"Voldemort? Your Father?" Harry asked calmly. "Last time I checked, they are only men. Voldemort is a maniac with a phobia of death and your Father is a coward who hides behind his Dark Lord and his money."  
"You dare..." Malfoy spluttered.  
"Yeah, I dare." Harry retorted. "I dare because I hate it when people presume to think they know best, when it's not really up to them. It does not matter how powerful Voldemort or your Father are, they are still mortal men who think they are better than everyone else. Use your brain Malfoy. No one but magic itself can chose who is and who isn't worthy."  
"Well, I..." Malfoy continued to splutter.  
Harry ignored him and opened the cupboard door. Before leaving, he turned to Malfoy.  
"Think over what I have told you, please."  
And with that, he left the blond spluttering in the broom cupboard. He had not done much, but hopefully it was a start in the right direction.

Neville continued to be a part of his, Ron and Hermione's group. While the first couple of days had been strange, all four had quickly adjusted. Harry was thankful, as it was good to finally see Neville being comfortable.  
With the knew arrangements came a large build in confidence for Neville. Harry was pleased to see that the shy by was finally coming out of his shell. What were once rare and spontaneous spurts of courage were quickly becoming more frequent occurrences. He was now less likely to shrink away when another student threw insults at him, and more attentive in class. He was even greatly improving in lessons, especially since Harry discovered something that might have greatly contributed to the shier boy's difficulty in all things practical spell casting.  
It was during transfiguration, and they were trying to turn lizards into foot-stools. Almost the entire class had gotten it by then, but Neville was clearly struggling.  
"Hey, do you need some help?" He asked.  
"Wha, no." Neville replied. "I just don't get it."  
"Why, what's wrong?"  
Neville sighed.  
"I'm saying the spell right, right down to the pronunciation, and I've got the right wand movements. I just don't get what I'm doing wrong."  
Harry frowned.  
"Can I have a look at your wand?"  
Neville shrugged and handed Harry the wand.  
Harry examined it for a long time.  
"It looks pretty old and warn." He observed.  
Neville shrugged.  
"It used to be my dad's."  
Harry frowned.  
"Why don't you have your dad's own wand?"  
"Gran said that because it worked perfectly fine for my dad it should work fine for me." Neville replied.  
Harry continued to frown and shook his head.  
"That's not right." He argued. "I mean no offense to your Grandmother, but from what I've heard the wand needs to chose the wizard and not the other way around. You can't just pick up any random wand and expect it to work."  
Neville frowned as Harry handed the wand back to him.  
"What should I do?"  
"Owl your Gran and tell her you need your own wand." Harry suggested.  
Neville looked unsure, but agreed nonetheless.  
That weekend Neville left for an entire day with his Grandmother and returned with a knew wand. He seemed happy.  
"I thought that Gran was going to rip me a new one." He had said. "But she just told me that she was glad I had finally gotten some guts and had actually told her that I needed a new wand."  
"That's great." Harry had said, smiling.  
Neville shifted uncomfortably.  
"She had asked why I was wearing a glove in Autumn, but I told her I had gotten a pretty nasty scratch during herbology and didn't want to risk it getting infected."  
Harry had sighed. He knew that Neville did not like withholding information from anyone, especially not his Gran, but Harry had insisted. He did not want anyone outside of Hogwarts, or inside of Hogwarts come to think about it, interfering with his and Luna's plans. Things needed to remain at least slightly calm until the right time. From what Harry had heard of Neville's Grandmother, the old witch finding out that one of the teachers was forcing students to write with their own blood would cause quite the commotion, which would definitely be problematic for their plans.  
Speaking of which, Umbridge continued to be a dark cloud in Harry's life. Every Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was a constant battle against his desire to hurt the despicable woman in various ways, both magical and not. She would always talk to the class of teenagers as if they were misbehaving toddlers, and would not stand anyone even approaching an opinion that was different from the narrow minded idea of the Ministry.  
By the end of his and Neville's week of detentions, both boys had the words "I must not tell lies" firmly etched into the backs of their hands. No matter what they did, nothing seemed to help them heal and it would appear that they would scar.  
Harry did not want to take this to any of the teachers. It wasn't that he did not trust them, it was just... Well, he didn't trust them. The vast majority of the staff were on Dumbledore's side, and he wanted as little information to reach the old puppet-master as possible. And in any case, the past four years had proved the incompetence of the teachers. No, the only way to deal with Umbridge was to fight back themselves.  
During their little study sessions, he, Neville, Ron and Hermione discussed organising a larger group solely focused on learning defensive magic and fighting back against Umbridge. Neville and Ron had been all for it. Hermione had been hesitant, as she still did not feel comfortable going against authority figures. However, she was game with going against the old pink toad, as not even Hermione respected this authority figure. She in fact had more respect for Trelawney than she did for Umbridge.  
So far, the plans were just in the early stages. Harry was trying to hold back the actual forming of this group until at least Neville had regained his memories. He felt as if he needed more people in the complete know before doing something so drastic in the plan. Luna had agreed with this, and suggested that it may also be wise to wait until Malfoy had also gained his memories, as they needed people from all four houses for the group to be balanced.

It was now early October. Things had been going well. His and Luna's plans were going perfectly. Thanks to Neville's new wand, he had greatly improved in his spell casting. This of course had led to the teen's confidence growing. He had had quite a pleasant meeting with Luna the night before, and for once was enjoying a peaceful slumber. But alas, it would appear that he was to be denied any form of peace. For he was suddenly awoken by the sound of crashing coming from the bed next to him.  
He turned over and opened his eyes blearily to see that Neville had fallen out of his bed. Instantly, Harry sat up.  
"Neville, are you okay?" He asked.  
The teen looked up at Harry, his eyes wild and his face pale. Suddenly, Neville was violently sick all over the floor.  
"Neville..." Harry began, his voice filled with concern for his friend.  
Neville ignored him. He quickly and shakily got to his feet and ran out of the dormitory.  
Harry looked around and saw that, somehow, the other three boys were still asleep.  
In nothing but his pajamas, he got out of bed and followed Neville down to the common room.

When he got down to the common room, Neville was no longer shaking. Instead, he was kneeling in front of the fire-place, staring into the dying embers of the fire from the night before.  
"Neville?" He asked hesitantly. "Neville, are you okay?"  
Suddenly, Neville looked up. Their eyes met. In that moment, Harry knew that he was not looking into the eyes of Neville Longbottom, a usually shy Gryfindor boy who was prone to sudden and spontaneous spurts of courage.  
No, he recognised those eyes all too well. And it would appear that he knew Harry as well.  
"Arthur." Harry breathed out.  
"Mordred." Replied the newly remembered Arthur Pendragon, once King of Camelot and High King of Britain, and his Father.


	16. The Once and Future Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After centuries, Arthur and Mordred meet again.

Chapter 16:

Neither one moved. Both just stared at each other, motionless aside from their breathing. Neville... Arthur... Whoever he was, still knelt at the fireplace. Harry still stood, though his legs were staking terribly. He grasped for something, anything, to say, to break the tension.  
But what could he say?  
What could he possibly say to the one he had betrayed? The one who had put his faith in him, the one who he had sworn his loyalty to, only to turn against him?  
Regardless of Morgana's manipulations, it had still been he who had betrayed him. Who had usurped the throne, and who had begun a terrible war that left the entire country in ruin. It had still been he to deliver the final blow.  
This man's blood stained his hands. The blood of his king, the blood of his kinsmen, the blood of his uncle... The blood of his father.  
He found that his legs could no longer support his wait. Trembling, he fell to his knees. His hands shook with the inordinate amount of grief which coursed through his very being, reaching the very heart of his tainted soul. His vision became blurred by the torrent of tears that now flowed from his eyes like twin rivers, falling from his face onto the floor in great drops of salty water. He let out an in audible sound, somewhere between a croak and a moan, before he gulped in more air and was finally able to speak clearly.  
"I... I'm sorry."  
It was all he could think to say. He knew that the words were not enough. No words could properly say what he felt. The endless ocean of remorse and regret that he found himself drowning in. No words could properly explain the depths of his sorrow. Nothing he could say would change what he had done. Could wash away the blood that stained his hands. Could heal the wounds that he had inflicted. No words could translate how he felt in that moment.  
But this did not stop the words from spilling past his lips.  
"I I was childish, and arrogant, and wrong. I I thought that... That I was doing what was best for Britain... I... I was a fool to think that I, a mere ch child knew what was best... I..."  
A hand fell gently to his shoulder. Another shakily wiped away the tears from his face.  
He looked up, only to meet the eyes of... He did not know at that moment. Was he still Neville? Was he Arthur? Or was he somehow both?  
"I..." The other man sucked in a breath. "I do not blame you."  
Harry blinked.  
"What?"  
The man sat back on his ankles, his own face filled with sorrow.  
"I... I know the truth. That... That we were both fools."  
Harry just blinked at him. He sighed and continued.  
"After... After I... Died, I was met by my... My mother..."  
"Lady Igraine." He gasped.  
The other man nodded.  
"She, she told me everything, about Morgana, about Merlin, about how both of us had been court up in their game."  
Harry could feel the hand on his shoulder trembling.  
"She told me about how... How Merlin was only using me to... To shape Britain in the way he wanted. And about how... How Morgana attempted to counter his attack, with you..."  
He laughed bitterly.  
"I suppose I was as much Merlin's puppet as you were Morgana's."  
Harry gulped a lungful of air.  
"But still, it is my fault." He argued. "It is my fault that Camelot fell. I stole your throne, I gave into Morgana's manipulations... I killed you."  
The other man shook his head.  
"No, I had the power to prevent all of this. We both began the war that destroyed Camelot, and my hands are as stained with your blood as yours are with mine."  
He sighed.  
"I could have done something long before. I was High King, I could have... Have demanded that you be raised in Camelot from infancy. I could have easily made you my foster-son or something, anything. But I didn't. Even, even after all that she had done to me, I let my sense of family cloud my judgement, and all of Britain paid the price for my foolishness."  
Harry clenched his fists.  
"I shouldn't have been so rash in my actions. I should have talked to you before jumping to conclusions... But I trusted so much in her words... I believed what she told me... That you tried to kill me as a new-born..."  
He looked down.  
"But all this time, it was Merlin who committed the crime."  
"I know." The other said in barely a whisper. "My mother... Igraine told me."  
He laughed bitterly.  
"I don't even know who I am any more. Part of me still feels like Neville, but... But another part of me feels like Arthur."  
He laughed again.  
"Who would have ever thought? Me, barely more than a squib, Arthur Pendragon?"  
Harry chuckled.  
"About as likely as the boy who defeated the darkest wizard in a century being one of histories greatest traitors."  
The other man looked at him seriously.  
"I don't consider you a traitor."  
Harry blinked.  
"You don't?"  
He shook his head.  
"You are a victim, more than a traitor."  
"We are both victims." Harry replied. "We were both victims of manipulations from people we considered mentors, people we loved."  
Harry looked down, then clenched his fists again. He looked straight into the other man's eyes.  
"But this is our chance." He said, strength building in his voice. "We have a second chance, to break the chains of fate and take control of our own destinies. History does not have to repeat itself."  
The other man frowned.  
"You speak as if history is going to repeat itself." He said, his voice laced with nervousness.  
"That is because it is." Harry replied. "The conflict between Merlin and Morgana lives on, and we are yet again stuck in the middle of it."  
He sucked in a deep breath.  
"We are not the only ones who were reborn. Dumbledore is Merlin, and Voldemort is Morgana."  
The other man's eyes widened.  
"Bloody hell." He muttered.  
"But don't worry," Harry continued. "Allies as well as enemies have been reborn, though only one remembers."  
"Who?"  
Harry smiled.  
"Nimue."  
The other man blinked.   
"Of course, I might have known."  
He chuckled.  
"She and her mother were something else."  
Harry chuckled.  
"Yes, I know."  
"But who is she?" The other man asked. Then a look of realisation appeared on hi; face. "Hang on, is it Luna?"  
Harry blinked in surprise.  
"How did you...?"  
The other man grinned slightly.  
"You didn't think anyone wouldn't notice the two of you becoming closer?"  
Harry's face burnt.  
"We were trying to make it look like we were friends, at least for the first few months."  
"And you didn't think that at least someone wouldn't notice you sneaking off every single night?"  
Harry spluttered.  
"I'd have you know, we were talking, nothing more."  
The other man raised an eyebrow.  
"Okay, maybe some cuddling and kissing, but no more intimate than that." He admitted.  
He then cleared his throat.  
"We have also been making plans for the future."  
The other man nodded, the mood instantly becoming more serious once more.  
"Yes, we have much to do." He agreed. "If what you say is true... But do you know if either Dumbledore or Y, oh, bugger it. If Voldemort have their memories back yet?"  
Harry shook his head.  
"We don't think Voldemort does. Dumbledore is a whole other matter. We think that his memories have partially returned, as he seems to be up to his old schemes again. But we don't think he can recognise who's who, otherwise I might have been dead a long time ago... Errr, again."  
He then turned back to the other man.  
"We were waiting for you. Luna feels that you will be vital in rewriting the stars and ensuring we come out of this on top."  
His eyes filled with conviction.  
"And I agree."  
He looked at the man, who many in both the magical world and non see as a legendary hero. A man who had inspired thousands and who all of Britain had once stood behind.  
"You can unit us together." He said. "You did it once, you can do it again."  
But the other man shook his head.  
"No, I..."  
"Yes, you can." Harry interrupted. "Neville... Arthur... Whoever you are now, you have the strength to do it. The magicals know you as a great hero, and even the non-magicals regard you with reverence. Do you even know what they call you?"  
He looked at him seriously.  
"In the non-magical world, you are known as "The Once and Future King". It is said that you will rise again in Britain's greatest need."  
He raised a hand to grasp the man's shoulder.  
"And I know you can do it. Even as Neville, you have proven yourself to be brave, and noble, though many still cannot see it. With the added memories and experiences of Arthur, I know you can do it."  
And yet, the other man still shook his head.  
"No, I can not do this alone." He argued.  
He met Harry with a steady gaze.  
"If I am to be the leader once more, then I will need you by my side."  
"Of course." Harry replied. "I served you once, and this time, I will not betray you."  
But he shook his head again.  
"No, you misunderstand. I do not need you as a knight, as someone to serve under me. But someone to be my equal."  
Harry blinked in surprise.  
"What? But... You can't be suggesting that..."  
"Yes," He replied seriously. "I am saying that we must both be kings."  
Harry shook his head.  
"No, there can only be one true King."  
"Who says?" The other retorted. "Harry... Mordred... I cannot do this alone. We are both to sides of the same coin. Back in Camelot, we inspired many. Each of us appealed to different people, or the different wants and desires of people. But if we stand together, both as Kings in our own right, then... I think... I think we can unit all of Britain as one."  
He then looked down.  
"And just think, if Dumbledore and Voldemort do gain back their memories, how their faces would look when they realised their puppets had united against them both."  
Harry chuckled.  
"I... I am honoured that you would suggest such an arrangement, after all I have done." He said.  
"So this is how it shall be." The other said. "Two Kings, ruling as equals."  
"Standing together as one." Harry agreed. "And we're going to take the Ministry by storm."  
The other chuckled.  
"The Ministry is riddled with corruption. It appears that we shall be cleaning house, much as I did with Uther's old court."  
Harry chuckled.  
"What shall people know you as? Will you keep the name Neville Longbottom, or retake the name Arthur Pendragon."  
The man looked into the dying embers of the fire for a long time. Finally, he replied.  
"Neville. It's the name that I am most comfortable with. But, I will not forget the part of me that is still Arthur."  
Harry smiled.  
"Good, because it is a part of you, just as much as Mordred is a part of me. Luna and Nimue are practically one and the same."  
Neville looked up at him.  
"Yes, I was just wondering, concerning who has returned..."  
Harry smiled.  
"No one remembers yet, besides the three of us. However, I have managed to spot all of my brothers, Lot and Galahad."  
"Ah." Neville replied. "Has... Has there been any sine of... Of Lancelot and Guinevere?"  
Harry shook his head.  
"So far, no. Luna hasn't said anything about them returning, and she seems to know the most at this point. However, with all her power, she is still not all knowing."  
Neville let out a shaky breath.  
"I hope they weren't." He admitted.  
"Yeah, me too." Harry agreed. "They would most likely complicate things even more than they already are."  
He then turned to Neville questioningly.  
"I thought that you had mended ties with Lancelot? Wasn't he fighting with you during Camlinn?"  
Neville shook his head.  
"That may be so, but I only did it out of desperation. He was a mighty warrior, and, even after word spread of his actions, he was still well liked by many. I hoped he would inspire the soldiers."  
Harry shook his head.  
"I hope Lancelot does not return. I don't think I could bare to look into those eyes again, especially after he killed Ris at Camlinn."  
Neville nodded.  
"And what of Guinevere?"  
Harry snorted.  
"What of her?"  
Neville raised an eyebrow.  
"Did you not wed her a week before Camlinn?"  
Harry scoffed.  
"Only out of desperation. And anyway, it was never consummated."  
Harry grinned.  
"Though that was not what I told Lancelot. Oh, you should have seen his face. He was furious."  
Both chuckled. Neville then sighed.  
"I do hope they don't return." He began. "I don't want to see them again. They cannot be trusted, not even in desperation."  
Harry sighed.  
"I am aware. Yes, it would be best for all if they stay dead."  
They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Harry looked to the window.  
"The sun is beginning to rise." He observed.  
"Do you think breakfast is being served yet?" Neville wondered.  
Harry shrugged.  
"Maybe. But if not, then perhaps we could tell Luna the news. She's always up early."  
Neville nodded.  
"Yes, and maybe we can begin planning, together."  
Harry smiled.  
"Yes, together does sound nice."


	17. Hope shines through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Neville has regained his memories, Harry is beginning to fill more hopeful.

Chapter 17:  
Harry and Neville had quickly walked back up to the dorm again so they could get dressed. Quietly, they walked back down and left the portrait hole for breakfast.  
The journey was quiet. The castle was only just waking up and Harry liked this, as it gave him a chance to organise his thoughts.  
For over a month he had been dreading his reunion with Arthur. He had feared that his father would hate him for what he had done. He had feared that there would be more conflict, which was not what he needed at the moment.  
However, he had been surprised by the man actually forgiving him, and asking for Harry's forgiveness. He had not even thought that it would be possible for them to be walking side by side in solidarity, not even an hour after the once High King regained his memories.  
Yet here he was, walking down to breakfast with Arthur, now Neville, as a friend. As an equal.  
He could feel hope blooming in his chest. Never before had the possibility of him actually succeeding in defeating Dumbledore and Voldemort seemed more likely. There had always been a large shadow of doubt looming over him.  
But now, with this knew development, the shadow seemed to grow ever smaller.  
Now, with Neville, they could start their plans properly. This was what Luna and he had been waiting for. Now, they could actually start setting things into motion.  
It would appear that Luna had had a suspicion about today, as she was waiting for them outside the doors of the Great Hall. Smiling, he approached her.  
"The wracksperts have cleared from his head." He whispered, gesturing to Neville.  
Instantly, Luna smiled.  
"I see. Well, the Nargals will be leaving something for me under the tree by the lake at lunch, if the two of you could come, they'll have something for you too."  
Harry smiled.  
"That sounds great."  
Luna then smiled at Neville.  
"Welcome back King Arthur." She whispered to Neville.  
And with that, she skipped back into the Great Hall.  
Neville stared at him.  
"What was that?" He asked.  
Harry grinned.  
"I just told her about you remembering, and we organised to meet under our usual tree by the Black Lake at lunch."  
Neville blinked. He then shook his head.  
"You have a secret code. Of course you have a secret code."  
Harry grinned.  
"Hey, we came up with that in Camelot. We needed some way to sneak around."  
Neville rolled his eyes.  
"But why are we meeting at lunch? Don't you usually meet each other at night?"  
Harry grinned.  
"That may be true, but we have to have some private time, if you know what I mean. We don't want to plunge strate into a public relationship, because that may seem a bit suspicious to some people. So right now we're in the slowly revealing that we are lovers stage."  
Neville's face turned pink.  
"Well... Errr... Just be careful."  
"Don't worry." Harry replied, laughing as they walked into the Great Hall.  
Not many people were in the Great Hall. Only a few students, most of them Ravenclaws, and about half of the staff. Of them, Harry spotted Dumbledore sitting in his usual grand chair.  
Yes, smile away while you still can Emrys.  
He thought darkly as he saw the old fool in his throne like chair.  
Soon, Neville and I will take you down.  
He looked to Neville to see the other boy was also looking at Dumbledore. He could see that, despite his warning about who Dumbledore was, Neville was still scared.  
"Hey, are you okay?" He asked quietly.  
"Oh? Yeh, I'm okay." Neville replied. "It's just... Seeing Merlin again..."  
Harry nodded in understanding.  
"I know. Every day I have to fight the urge to either throw a butter knife at him, or run for the hills."  
Neville chuckled.  
They both took seats at the Gryffindor table. Harry examined the staff table again, until he spotted Snape sitting and eating a meager breakfast. He quickly turned to Neville, knowing of his fear of Snape.  
"Oh, I just remembered." He began quickly. "You know how I said that Lot was hear?"  
"Yeah." Neville replied.  
"Well, he's someone we know."  
"Who?"  
Harry's face became rather sheepish.  
"Snape."  
"What?" Neville asked in a voice that was probably louder than intentioned.  
"Shhh." Harry hushed.  
"Sorry." Neville said in a quieter voice. "But seriously? You could have given me a bit of a warning."  
"Sorry." Harry replied.  
"Anything else?" Neville asked.  
"Well, it's complicated. Not everyone is at Hogwarts." He began.  
"Who is?" Neville asked.  
"Well, me, you and Nimue, obviously." He began. "And you now know about Snape being Lot. Okay, so Ron is Gaheris, and Hermione is Agravaine."  
Neville blinked in surprise.  
"Agravaine is now a girl?"  
"Yeah, why?" Harry asked. "Just cause it's the same soul doesn't mean they have to be the same gender. And anyway, you didn't act this way when you found out that Morgana is now Voldemort."  
"Well, first of all," Neville began. "I was a bit overwhelmed by the influx of memories. Second of all, I would rather not think about it, considering certain things that happened during our previous lives."  
"Oh." Harry replied. "Well, anyway, the only other one at Hogwarts is Galahad."  
"Who's he? Or is he even a he any more?" Neville asked.  
"He's still a he." Harry replied.  
"Well, who is he?"  
"Errr, how do I say this?" Harry began. "Well, he's Malfoy."  
Neville blinked.  
"You're joking."  
"Nope."  
"Malfoy... Is Galahad?"  
"Yep."  
Neville rubbed his temples.  
"great, so I've been terrified of my brother-in-law for the past four years and I've been bullied by the son of my former friend for the same amount of time."  
"Pretty much." Harry said. "But hopefully they'll regain their memories soon."  
"Yeah." Neville agreed. "But, didn't you say there were more? You said that all of your brothers had been reborn, and yet you have only said two."  
"Oh, yes." Harry began. "That's... Complicated."  
"How s?"  
"Well," Harry began. "Remember Professor Lupin? He's Gareth."  
Neville blinked, but then nodded.  
"Yes I can see it." He replied. "But there's still one more."  
Harry sucked in a nervous breath.  
"Well, that's... Complicated."  
He sucked up his nerve and continued.  
"Gawain is now known as Sirius Black."  
Neville spilt his pumpkin juice.  
"What?" He exclaimed.  
"Shhh." Harry said, his eyes darting around. "Don't be so loud."  
"B but..." Neville stuttered. "Sirius Black?"  
Harry pulled Neville down so he could whisper in his ear.  
"Listen Neville, the entire wizarding World got it wrong. Sirius is innocent. Everything that Sirius is supposedly guilty of was committed by Peter Petagrew."  
After about a minute, Neville managed to calm down.  
"Well, that's a lot to process." He began.  
Harry chuckled.  
"Sorry. But in my defense, you did ask for it."  
Neville shook his head.  
"No more information dumps until lunch at least."  
"Deal." Harry replied, smiling.

At Lunch, he and Neville walked down to his and Luna's favourite tree near the Black Lake, where his lover was already waiting for them with a large plate of food. She smiled upon seeing them.  
"Hey," Harry said as he sat down.  
Neville hesitantly sat next to him.  
"How have you been adjusting sire?" She asked Neville.  
"Don't call me that." Neville muttered.  
Harry cleared his throat.   
"He's still getting used to the idea of once being the greatest king in Britain."  
Luna nodded in understanding. She pulled out her wand and quickly cast some privacy wards.  
"Now, let us get down to business." She began.  
"Yes," Neville agreed. "What have you been doing so far?"  
Luna and Harry exchanged glances.  
"Well, you see," Harry began. "We haven't exactly been able to do much."  
"Why?" Neville asked.  
"We've been waiting for you." Luna replied. "You are very important."  
Neville shifted uncomfortably, obviously still not used to being regarded in such a way.  
"But now that I've remembered, what is our next course of action?" He continued.  
"Well," Harry began. "We have been discussing some things."  
"Such as?"  
"Well, first of all," Harry began. "We need to tarnish Dumbledore's reputation to the point that he will never be able to repair it. This will help us cut the puppet-master's strings."  
Neville scratched his head.  
"How are we going to do that? I mean, Dumbledore is regarded with a lot of respect from most of the country."  
Harry grinned.  
"Well, for once the Ministry has proven itself useful. They've spent the past few months discrediting Dumbledore, so people may be a bit less inclined to follow him."  
"Yeah, but they've also been discrediting you." Neville pointed out.  
"That may be so," Harry continued. "But I have a slight advantage. For you see, Dumbledore has been making large waves in the Ministry and the wizingamot with his continued insistence that Voldemort is back. But I've made barely a ripple. The prophet has said far more about Dumbledore than it has about me."  
Neville frowned.  
"There's still all that they've done to make you look like some attention seeking nut-job."  
Harry's grin widened.  
"Fortunately, I can get into contact with the reporter who started it all."  
"Rita Skeeter?" Neville asked in shock.  
"Yep." Harry replied, nodding.  
"You actually trust her?" Neville demanded.  
Harry scoffed.  
"Of course not." He said. "But I know her kind, and I know how to manipulate them, thanks to my dear old mother."  
He widened his eyes in mock innocence.  
"All I have to do is spin her the story of the poor little orphan boy who only wanted some love and was manipulated by the big bad headmaster, and she will be putty in my hands."  
Neville shuddered.  
"Will this actually work?"  
"Of course it will." Harry replied. "Once this happens, they'll stop seeing me as a mentally ill glory seeker, and begin to see me as a victim of a power hungry old fool."  
Luna nodded.  
"The masses will develop sympathy for him, which will go a long way in gaining their support."  
"Won't it make you seem weak?" Neville asked.  
Harry shook his head.  
"Perhaps, but I also intend to tell them about all that has happened in Hogwarts since I first came here."  
Neville's eyes widened.  
"You don't mean...?"  
Harry began to tap his chin.  
"Saving the stone in first-year, defeating Slytherin's monster in second, facing an army of dementors in third, and being entered into a death tournament in fourth. This will serve to both make Dumbledore seem incompetent, and me seem stronger."  
"So the plan is to make yourself look like a victim turned hero?" Neville asked.  
Harry nodded.  
"But this is not for a little bit." Luna added. "We are first going to begin to gain support for our cause from other factions than the general public, starting with Hogwarts."  
"Yes," Harry agreed, frowning. "And we are going to begin by getting rid of that horrid excuse for a witch, and the reason why I never want to see the colour pink ever again."  
Neville nodded.  
"Yes, she needs to go." He agreed. "But how?"  
Both Harry and Luna smiled.  
"Well, she thinks Dumbledore is trying to train us as his personal army." Luna began. "And so we shall become an army, though not for Dumbledore."  
"Not everyone of course." Harry added. "We are thinking of collecting a select number of students, from all houses, and secretly teach them how to fight with magic, and possibly even with non-magic weapons."  
Neville frowned.  
"All four houses?"  
"Yes," Harry replied. "We need to stand as one if we are to have any hope of succeeding."  
"But," Neville continued. "I do not see any Slytherins joining us unless Malfoy gets back his memories. But there's no telling when that may happen."  
Luna smiled.  
"It should happen soon." She said. "Now that both of you remember, the rest will come quickly."  
"How quickly?" Neville asked.  
"If my feelings are correct, then I estimate that everyone will remember by the solstice." She replied.  
Both boys blinked.  
"Well, I hope Malfoy remembers soon." Harry said. "There's a Hogsmead weekend in a few weeks. Now that Neville's regained his memories, I was thinking we should gather as many people as we can and arrange to meet them somewhere there, so we don't risk getting court by Umbridge."  
Both Luna and Neville nodded.  
"Well, then it's settled." Harry said, smiling. "We have three weeks to gather as many people as we can, and hopefully Malfoy remembers in time to get some Slytherins."  
Luna nodded.  
"Don't worry. Magic knows how important it is for all of us to unite, so it is very likely that she will allow Malfoy to remember soon."  
"Good." Harry replied.  
Neville cleared his throat.  
"Was there anything else?" He asked.  
Harry nodded.  
"As we have mentioned before, we also plan on seeking allies from the minorities who have faced discrimination. Firstly, there's the muggle-borns. Voldemort wishes to destroy them, while Dumbledore claims to care about them, but has done little to prevent laws in the ministry which greatly hinder them from having high-ranking positions."   
"We intend to give them results, instead of mere words." Luna agreed.  
"Then there are those whom the Ministry have declared "magical creatures". Centaurs, house-elves, goblins, werewolves, you know, anyone who has suffered from discrimination."  
Neville nodded.  
"I see. Let me guess, you will be promising them equality in exchange for their support."  
Harry nodded.  
"It helps that I have friends among the house-elves and werewolves. And I will be able to sympathise with them, thanks to Camelot."  
Neville winced. Harry put a hand on his knee.  
"Hey, don't worry. I forgave you for your mistakes."  
Neville smiled.  
Luna cleared her throat.  
"There is one final matter." She began.  
Her eyes flicked between the two males.  
"If we intend to take over the Wizarding World, then we will need a leader."  
"Yeah, about that," Harry began.  
"We've agreed to both be Kings in our own right." Neville finished.  
Luna nodded, smiling.  
"I expected this arrangement." She replied. "But the two of you still need something, a symbol of your kingships."  
"What?" Both males asked.  
"You," She pointed at Neville. "Need Excalibur. And you," She pointed at Harry. "Need Caliburn."  
"What?"  
Both males stared at each other.  
"It's been one thousand five hundred years," Neville began. "There's no telling where either of those swords are."  
Harry cleared his throat.  
"Actually, while it may be true for Caliburn, it is not so much for Excalibur."  
He glanced at the Black Lake.  
"In the non-magical legends, it is said that Excalibur was returned to the Lake of Avalon."  
Neville blinked.  
"Do you know where the Lake is?" He asked.  
"Yes." Luna replied.  
"So what are we supposed to do, go fishing for swords?"  
Luna shook her head, chuckling.  
"No, no."  
She looked down.  
"We will have to go to the Lake on Samhain, when the vale between our world and the world of the dead is at it's thinnest. This will allow us to... To talk to my mother."  
Harry put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled.  
"Thank you. I'm fine."  
She shook her head.  
"If we are able to make contact with my mother, and retrieve Excalibur, then maybe she will be able to tell us of the location of Caliburn."  
Harry nodded.  
"Great." Neville said. "There's just one problem. How are we going to get to the Lake of Avalon on Samhain?"  
They all sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Harry's eyes widened. He hesitantly began to speak.  
"My parents died on Samhain." He began quietly. "We could sneak away. It's on a weekend, so we won't be missed in class. And if we get court, I could... Could say I was going to visit them or something... Hopefully I'll be able to garner some sympathy..."   
Luna crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around him. Neville awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder.  
"We can do this." Luna began.  
Harry smiled.  
"Yes, I know." He replied.  
And with both his lover and his friend with him, he felt that he could. Now that Neville had remembered, he felt stronger. The clouds of doubt that had previously plagued him had now parted to reveal the light of hope. Their goal was now more than a mere dream, it was now an actual possibility.  
With the people he loved around him, he felt that anything was possible.

Later that day, he and Neville approached Ron and Hermione and discussed their idea of a secret organisation devoted to teaching students how to defend themselves. Both seemed excited.  
"Yes, this is a brilliant idea." Ron said enthusiastically. "We'll really stick it to the old toad."  
Hermione nodded.  
"Yes, and I agree that we should include other houses." ε added. "Ron and I can ask the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw prefects from our year to help us."  
Neither Harry nor Neville commented on how she had left out Slytherin.  
"Great." Harry said, smiling. "Luna would try to help with recruiting Ravenclaws, but she isn't exactly the most popular."  
Hermione nodded in understanding.  
"So, we will all meet in Hogsmead." Neville continued.  
"But where exactly?" Ron asked. "The three broom-sticks?"  
Harry shook his head.  
"No, too crowded. "We're going to try this place called the Hog's Head. It's less popular, so less people will see the large gathering of students discussing a secret study group."  
Harry smiled. He could sense that this was going to be great.

Later, as Harry was going to sneak out for his secret rendezvous with Luna, he spotted Neville sitting in the common-room, staring at the dying embers of the fire.  
"Hey, Neville, you okay?"  
"Huh?" Neville asked, looking up. "Oh, yeah."  
Harry walked over and sat beside him.  
"Something on your mind?" He asked gently.  
Neville sighed.  
"It's just... Harry, we're planning on training children for war."  
Harry frowned.  
"The youngest of the students here are more than twice the age I was when I began my training." Harry argued.  
Neville shook his head.  
"Times were different back then. And anyway, there wasn't war then. Now... War is on the horizon and our first course of action is to train children?"  
Harry sighed.  
"Look, I don't want to do it. If it were up to me, then none of us would have to fight."  
He looked seriously at Neville.  
"But you and I both know that sometimes, what we have to do and what we want to do are not the same thing."  
Neville sighed.  
"I know, believe me, I know. I'm just so tired of fighting. War brings nothing but hate, and pain and death."  
"I know." Harry said quietly. "Voldemort and Dumbledore are fighting to destroy what they hate."  
He then looked again at Neville.  
"But hate is not what I'm fighting for. I am fighting to protect the ones I love."  
Neville nodded.  
"Yes, you are right. We will fight for what we love. And I shall do everything in my power to ensure that no children have to fight for their own survival."  
Harry smiled.  
"That's the Arthur I know and love."  
Neville chuckled.  
"Give Luna my regards, and don't stay out too late."  
Harry grinned.  
"As you wish sire."  
He gave Neville a mocking bow.  
"Just be careful not to accidentally make little princes and princesses sire!" He heard Neville yelling before the portrait hole closed behind him.


	18. Old friends and new allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets and old friend, and the defense group is formed.

Chapter 18:

For the next week, Luna, Harry and Neville met regularly to discuss their large-scale plans. So far, they were mainly focused on how to acquire the allegiance of the different magical races. The centaurs were proud beings, as were the goblins. They would not bow easily to a human leader, especially after how their kinds had been treated by the wizarding world. All three agreed that they should avoid using violence against them at all costs. If they forced them to yield, then they would be no better than Voldemort. They had to persuade them that allying with the two would-be kings would be in their species best interest. They had to make promises, and then deliver on them. If they failed to do this, then they would be no better than Dumbledore.  
Another concern were the house-elves. They seemed to be submissive to their lifestyle. They would need to try to spin their argument in a way that would be accepted by the house-elves, while still greatly improving their lives. The only problem was that little was even none about the house-elves. Harry thought that perhaps, if they knew more about their bondage to wizards, they could find some form of loophole that could ensure the species were no longer treated like slaves. It would be hard. The vast majority were so used to their treatment, that they believed it was their lot in life. Harry, Neville and Luna would have to work with house-elves like Dobby to convince them otherwise.  
They also had discussions with Ron and Hermione about the defense group. Hermione seemed to be excited, because apparently the number of people who were coming seemed to be growing by the day. Harry was a little nervous, as the larger the group was, the more risk their was of discovery. However, Luna seemed to be calm about the entire matter, claiming that Hermione was so smart, she would find a way of keeping the secret from slipping through loose lips.  
Now, Harry was walking through the corridors, intending to meet Luna for breakfast. However, he was stopped when he was suddenly pulled into an empty classroom.  
Instantly, his battle instincts kicked in. He kicked backwards, presumably where his attacker was. He heard a grunt before he turned and lifted a fist. However, before he could attack, his fist was grabbed by his attackers hand. He followed the arm to find the one who had grabbed him.  
"Malfoy?" He said in surprise.  
Malfoy only grabbed his waist and pushed him into a chair. The blond said nothing and only stared at him in silence.  
"What the hell?" Harry asked.  
Malfoy said nothing.  
"Why did you just grab me?" He continued. "If you wanted a fight, then why not just say it instead of making me sit here? Or, were you intending for something else? Not that I'm not flattered, but I don't swing that way, and I'm also spoken for."  
"Self-riches prick?" Malfoy asked in disbelief.  
"What?" Harry asked.  
"Self-riches prick?" Malfoy repeated, his voice dripping with incredulity.  
Harry blinked. Then, after a few seconds, it dawned on him. He looked into his school rival's eyes, and saw not the arrogant ferret, but...  
"Hello Galahad." He said, his lips twitching in a slight smile.  
"Don't you "hello Galahad" me Potter... Mordred... Whoever you are." Malfoy snapped.  
The blond sighed dramatically and sat in a chair facing Harry.  
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.  
"What?" Harry replied. "Tell you that you used to be a knight of Camelot, and that we used to be friends?"  
Malfoy began to rube his temples.  
"Do you know what it's like, waking up one day with all these memories of another life just flooding through your mind?" He asked.  
"No, I don't." Harry replied. "Because I got my memories given to me over two and a half months of horrible dreams which did hardly anything to help rejuvenate my strength for the next day."  
Malfoy was silent.  
"So, how did you find out who I was?" Harry asked.  
"On the train, you called me a self-riches prick." Malfoy replied. "I remember you telling me once, back in Camelot, that that was what you first thought of me."  
Harry chuckled.  
"Yeah, sorry about that. But in my defense, you did act like a bit of a prick back then. You know, before I actually got to know you."  
Malfoy sighed.  
"I just cannot believe that that is what you say to me, after what I had to come home to after the war."  
Harry frowned in sadness.  
"Right. So, you actually returned to Camelot after the battle of Camlinn?"  
Malfoy scoffed.  
"Of course I did." He said. "And what a bloody mess you and Arthur left. Hundreds dead, and you and Arthur in the middle of it. The survivers said that the two of you killed each other."  
"Yeah, that happened." Harry replied sadly. "And not a day goes by that I don't regret it. We were all fools, Galahad. You, me, Arthur, everyone. We were all pawns in the games of Merlin and Morgana."  
He clenched his fist.  
"Merlin had been manipulating Arthur, and Morgana had been manipulating me. All because of a bloody prophecy that I would kill Arthur and he would kill me."  
Malfoy only looked at him sadly.  
"So," Harry began. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to you?"  
Malfoy sighed.  
"Guinevere declared herself High Queen, due to the lack of a surviving king. All four of your brothers were also dead. Guinevere acted mournful to see all of the dead, but really, the only death she truly mourned for was Lancelot."  
Both of them rolled their eyes at this.  
"She did allow memorials for both sides, but really it was only for show. I myself took your brothers and yourself back to Orkney, as I thought you would wish to be berried in the place you called home."  
Harry smiled.  
"Thank you." He said.  
Malfoy continued.  
"It was only when I returned from Orkney that I discovered what Guinevere was doing. She was systematically weeding out anyone who so much as sympathised with you, or who refused to swear their loyalty to the woman who had betrayed Arthur. Kay even had a public execution under charges of treason."  
Harry scoffed.  
"And by treason, we actually mean because he refused to swear allegiance to the woman who had betrayed his foster-brother."  
Malfoy nodded.  
"It wasn't long until she sent me on a mission I knew she did not intend for me to return from."  
"What?" Harry asked.  
Malfoy frowned.  
"She sent me to find the Holy Grail, "to heal the land from the horrible war"."   
Harry frowned. The Holy Grail was a legend. It was said that any water that was produced by it would possess powers of healing. It was said to be so powerful, that it could even bring back the newly deceased.  
?Well, after a few months I was able to find it." Malfoy continued. "But then..."  
"Let me guess, you ascended to Heaven in a beam of light?"  
"What?" Malfoy asked in confusion. "What are you going on about?"  
"Nothing." Harry said quickly. "Please, continue."  
"Well, anyway," Malfoy continued. "I was on my way back to Camelot, when I heard a horrible rumour. Apparently, while on another deadly mission for Guinevere, Sir Tristan had been bitten by a deadly serpent, and the healers were claiming their was no way of healing him."  
Harry's breath court in his throat. He remembered Tristan. He had been a quiet man, only a few years older than Gawain. His secret love for his Uncle's wife Isolt was almost as well known as Lancelot's affair with Guinevere.  
He had respected Tristan. Most did. For while Lancelot gave into his desire for Guinevere, neither Tristan nor Isolt ever acted on their feelings for each other. He remembered that, just after Nimue's death, Tristan had approached him and comforted him. And while Tristan had not exactly sided with him during the war, he also did not side with Arthur. He was among the few knights who defended the people from the crossfire, and this only served to increase the amount of respect that Harry held for the man.  
Hence why it was disheartening to hear of the man's suffering.  
"What happened?" He asked.  
Malfoy sighed.  
"I tried to go to him, to heal him with the grail. Unfortunately, by the time I reached where he had stayed during his illness, it was too late. I arrived to discover that he had called for the healing arts of Isolt, only for him to die as her ship docked in the port. Isolt, upon finding him dead, apparently also perished due to a broken heart."  
Malfoy sighed.  
"I remember, standing at their graves. I remember feeling saddened that they had died, that all who were good were dead and that Guinevere of all people had lived. I thought I could use the grail to help them."  
He looked down.  
"The magic of the grail was great. It could even bring back the newly deceased. But... It's enchanted waters could only do so much. Only one life could be brought back, but I wanted to bring back two. A price had to be paid. A life for a life."  
Harry gasped.  
"You didn't?"  
Malfoy nodded.  
"I poured the water of the grail onto their graves, and willingly gave all my energy to it. My last memory is of lying on the ground, dying. However, just as I closed my eyes for the last time, I remember... Fire... And two... Creatures, their voices a beautiful song of joy and rebirth, and never dying love."  
Harry's eyes were wide. His mind was turning.  
"Fire... Beautiful singing... Galahad, are you saying that the power of the Holy Grail, combined with your noble sacrifice, turned Tristan and Isolt into phoenixes?"  
Malfoy shrugged.  
"I suppose." He replied.  
Harry sighed.  
"Well, at least someone got a somewhat happy ending." He said.  
They were silent for a long time. Finally, Malfoy spoke.  
"So, Potter... Mordred..."  
"Harry." He said.  
"What?"  
"First name basis." Harry replied. "Presuming you want to work together again. If not, then you can go back to Potter."  
Malfoy was silent for a long time.  
"Depends," He began. "What, exactly, do you mean by working together? On what?"  
Harry grinned bitterly.  
"You don't honestly think we're remembering our past lives for no reason?" He asked. "There's a reason for all of this."  
Malfoy frowned.  
"What is it?"  
"To make sure we don't repeat our fates." Harry replied.  
"How so?"  
Harry grinned.  
"We're going to bring an end to the feud of Merlin and Morgana, and actually succeed in freeing Britain."  
Malfoy's frown deepened.  
"Merlin and Morgana are back too?"  
"Yeah." Harry replied. "Merlin is Dumbledore, and Morgana is Voldemort."  
Malfoy groaned.  
"Great, and now my father is one of the idiots who are following her... Him... Whatever."  
Harry nodded.  
"But your not going to follow Voldemort, right. I'm not. It was because of Merlin and Morgana that we all died."  
"Yes, I realise that." Malfoy said. "Your brothers mentioned that they feared your mother was using you, but I ignored them because I believe she wanted what we all wanted."  
Harry shook his head.  
"She never wanted Britain to be free, she only wanted vengeance against Merlin and the Pendragons."  
"Speaking of which," Malfoy began. "Has Arthur returned as well? And if so, what are we to do with him?"  
"Arthur is now my ally, and my friend." Harry replied.  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed.  
"How can we trust him? Didn't he try to kill you as an infant?"  
"No, that was Merlin." He replied.  
Malfoy nodded.  
"Makes sense. So, who is he? And does he even remember?"  
Harry nodded.  
"Yeah, he remembers." He replied. "And he's Neville."  
Malfoy blinked.  
"You're joking."  
"Nope."  
Malfoy only stared at him. Then, he face-palmed.  
"We're doomed." He groaned.  
Harry chuckled.  
"Neville is far stronger than you give him credit for." He said. "Don't worry, Nimue's here too."  
"Well, at least there's someone with a brain." Malfoy replied.  
"Hey." Harry said, laughing.  
They both sat in silence for a few seconds.  
"So," Harry began. "Will you stand with us, and rewrite the stars?"  
"Of course." Malfoy replied. "Compared to Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, you're actually somewhat sane."  
"Gee, thanks." Harry muttered. "But you may want to stop calling Voldemort the Dark Lord. People might think your still loyal to him."  
"Then what do I call him, Potter?"  
Harry grinned.  
"Call him by his name, Voldemort."  
Malfoy frowned.  
"Come on," Harry urged. "You're a knight of Camelot, and you're afraid of saying a name?"  
Malfoy scowled.  
"Fine, Potter. I'll help you against Dumbledore and V... Voldemort."  
Harry smiled.  
"Great." He replied. "And please, enough of this Potter nonsense. We're friends, call me Harry."  
"Alright." Malfoy replied slowly. "Then I guess you can call me Draco."  
Harry smiled.  
"It will be good to fight by your side once more, Draco."  
He extended his hand. After some hesitation, Draco shook it.  
"So, where do we begin?" He asked.  
Harry smiled. It was good to have his friend back.

Once Harry finally reached Luna for breakfast, he whispered to her that the wracksperts had cleared from Draco's head. Luna answered him with a wide smile.  
"Great." She replied. "Oh, and I have some more great news." She continued. "I believe that we have known each other long enough in this life."  
Harry's smile widened.  
"So you think we can go public?" He asked eagerly.  
Luna nodded.  
That was all Harry needed. Without hesitation, he lent in and kissed his lover fully on the lips. After only a few seconds, she returned it passionately. He wrapped his arms around her body and she wrapped her arms around his neck. After what could have been a long time or no time at all, they were forced to part for air. Harry could hear muttering among the students watching, but he did not care. He laced his fingers into his lover's and together, they walked into the Great Hall.  
His heart was full of an inordinate amount of joy. He could now be publicly with the woman he loved, his friend had returned, and he was fighting for a better future for himself and the ones he loved. Life was truly looking up.

Two weeks later, he sat, flanked by Luna, Neville, Ron and Hermione. They had somehow arranged a large round table in the Hog's Head inn, which was good as they had quite a number of people. Apparently, Hermione had been busy with her recruiting.  
From his own house, there were Fred and George, Lee Jordan, Ginny, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Lavender Brown, Pavati Patil, Dean Thomas, Colin Creevey, and, somehow, Dennis Creevey. Harry did not even know how Dennis got there, seeing as he was only a second year. He could see Neville looking at the small boy uneasily, evidentially uncomfortable with such a young person being involved. Harry was also uncomfortable with Dennis's presence, but he knew that the Creevey brothers would fight for him, regardless of what he said.  
From Hufflepuff, they had Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Ernie McMillan, Justin finch-Fletchly, and a boy Harry recognised as Zacharias Smith, a player on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.  
And finally, from Ravenclaw, they had Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Pavati's twin Padma, Cho Chang, and one of cho's friends whom Luna informed him was Marietta Edgecombe.  
In all, there were currently twenty-eight of them. Not too small, but just large enough to still be manageable. However, it was still nothing when compared to the ranks of Camelot's knights. Harry was still pleased to see how diverse the crowd was, even if it seemed to lean a bit too heavily towards Gryffindor.  
"So, is that everyone?" Ron asked.  
"It should be." Hermione began.  
However, Harry shook his head.  
"I'm still expecting a few more people."  
Both Hermione and Ron stared at him.  
"Who?" Hermione asked.  
Harry grinned.  
"Only a couple of people."  
Ron groaned.  
"Please tell me that's less than what Hermione calls a couple of people?"  
Harry chuckled.  
"I hope so."  
"You mean you don't know the exact number?" Hermione demanded.  
"Don't worry." Harry replied. "My errr... Friend, said he'll be careful and only find who he believes we can trust."  
"And who exactly is this friend?" Hermione asked suspiciously.  
Before Harry could answer her, the door to the inn opened once more. Soon, Draco entered the Hog's Head, followed by five other Slytherins.  
At the site of the Slytherins, everyone were on their guards. Several people even jumped to their feet.  
"What are you doing here Malfoy?" Ron demanded.  
"I was invited." Draco replied calmly. He then turned to Harry. "Did I find enough people?"  
Harry scanned the people who had followed Draco, and nodded, satisfied.  
"Yeah, thanks."  
"Wait, what?" Ron asked, turning to Harry in shock. "You invited him?"  
"Yes." Harry replied calmly.  
"But... But..." Ron spluttered.  
Everyone was staring at him in shock. Then, they began yelling at each other, demanding answers. Harry ended up having to bang his butterbeer against the table.  
"Okay, calm down, calm down!" He said.  
Instantly, they all quieted down and looked at him expectantly.  
"Now, I know this is surprising," He began. "I know that we've never gotten along with Slytherins all that much. Well, now it's time to change that. We are on the brink of war, and we need to stand together."  
Neville straightened next to him.  
"I agree with Harry. Yes, Voldemort and many of the Death-Eaters may have come from Slytherin, but this does not mean that the entire house is evil. We should not dam the lot for the actions of a few."  
The entire gathering was staring at Neville, dumfounded. Never before had they seen the usually shy boy speak with such confidence.  
"War is coming," Neville continued. "We have much bigger threats than each other. It's time to stop our petty rivalries and start working as one. We are all, students of Hogwarts. We are all, part of this school. Right now, this school is in danger. Our school, is in danger. Our world, is in danger. A thousand years ago, the founders, despite their differences, were able to work together and build this school. Are we to let someone like Umbridge, or the Ministry, destroy what these four great witches and wizards built so long ago fall because we couldn't work as they did?"  
Everyone was silent. The Slytherins stood in the middle of the room, while the rest of the gathered students stared at them in distrust. Finally, as if by silent agreement, they parted to let the the newcomers sit. Draco came to hesitantly sit where Harry and Neville were, his house-mates sticking close to him.  
"And for the record," The blond began. "Recent events have caused me to greatly alter my opinions, and I am now less willing to be like my father. I would rather not be the servant of a madman, thank you very much. And I have also worked to find people who's families were neutral during the last war, and who are not willing to side with Voldemort."  
Harry smiled, though many of the people were still tense.  
"So, who did you bring?" He asked.  
Draco began gesturing to his companions.  
"These are Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass and Daphne's sister Astoria."  
"And how can we trust any of you?" Ron demanded.  
"Because we're actually smarter than most of our fellows." Theodor replied. "We know that, if He-WhoMst-Not-Be-Named does win and wipe out all the Muggles and Muggle-borns, then the half-bloods will go next. Then there will be those who might have some muggle ancestry, but enough wizarding to now be considered pure-blood. And then, there will be so few of us left, we'll probably wipe ourselves out due to inbreeding."  
The other Slytherins nodded in agreement.  
"Plus," Daphne began. "We like Umbridge as much as any of you."  
The atmosphere somewhat calmed, though was still tense.  
"So," Harry began. "Shall we begin?"

For the next half hour or so, they all discussed the concept of a secret study group, devoted to learning how to defend themselves. All in attendance seemed receptive to the idea, though many also wanted to here Harry talk about Voldemort, and what really happened during the third task. It had been hard, but Luna's presence made it so much easier. Oh, how glad he was they could now be publicly together.  
The atmosphere remained tense for a long time, but thankfully he and Neville managed to smooth over any disagreements. Harry could not help but smile every time he saw him. It was in moments like these that he could truly see the Arthur he had once known.  
Eventually, they had all signed a piece of parchment Hermione had produced, and the crowd left the inn, eagerly awaiting the next meeting.  
Now, only he, Luna, Neville, Ron, Hermione and Draco remained.  
"Okay," Ron began. "Seriously mate, since when do you trust him?" He asked, pointing to Draco.  
Harry shrugged.  
"It's complicated. But trust me, we are all heading to the same goal."  
Hermione frowned.  
"Harry, are you sure..."  
"Granger, don't worry." Draco interrupted. "I know we've never gotten along that well, but not all of us Slytherins are follows of Voldemort. I know it will take some time to get used to, but I want what you want."  
Both Ron and Hermione looked between Harry and Draco for a long time.  
"Don't worry," Luna began. "You'll understand when the wracksperts clear from your minds."  
They both stared at her for a long time. Finally, Ron shook his head.  
"Fine." He began. "If you think it's a good idea Harry, then I won't stop you. But Malfoy, any funny business and..." He let the threat hang.  
Ron and Hermione got to their feet and walked out of the inn. Harry, Neville, Luna and Draco also left, though they walked in a different direction, to somewhere they could have some more privacy. They ended up standing near the shrieking shack. After Harry put up some privacy wards, they began to speak.  
"So," Draco began. "That went well."  
Harry nodded.  
"Good job finding so many people."  
Draco shrugged.  
"You're the one who kept everyone from breaking out into a fight."  
Harry smiled.  
"I couldn't have done it without Neville."  
Draco turned to Neville.  
"So it's true then?" He asked. "You are actually Arthur Pendragon?"  
Neville nodded.  
"I know, hard to believe." He began. "But it's just as hard to believe that your Galahad, or that Harry is Mordred."  
Draco nodded.  
"So, now what?"  
While it had been about two weeks since Draco had regained his memories, he had not been part of their secret meetings. They had all agreed it was best they were not seen together in public until after the first meeting of the secret defense group. So now it was time for the former knight to join in the planning.  
"Well," Harry began. "The next course of action is to go on a little field-trip on Samhain."  
Draco frowned.  
"Where and why?"  
"Samhain is when the vale between our world and the spirit world is at it's thinnest." Luna replied. "We must go to the Lake of Avalon, to retrieve Excalibur from my mother and to ask her if she knows anything concerning the whereabouts of Caliburn."  
"And how are we supposed to get to the Lake of Avalon on Samhain?" Draco asked.  
"Sneak out of course." Harry replied.  
Draco face-palmed.  
"How are we going to sneak out?"  
Luna smiled.  
"I've got some ideas."  
"Like what?"  
Luna only continued to smile.  
"You'll see."  
Harry laughed at Draco's expression of frustration.  
It was truly good to have his old friend back. Yes, Galahad had been one of those who had encouraged him to rebel against Arthur, but his reasoning was much like his own. He had been pushed into the mindset through the actions of Merlin and the lose of someone close to him, much as Mordred had. And now, his old friend was standing beside him once again.


	19. The king's sword part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to get Excalibur, but end up getting a few more things.

Chapter 19:

When Samhain arrived, Harry found himself with Draco, Luna and Neville on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  
"So," Draco began. "Your big plan for sneaking out is going through the Forbidden Forest?"  
Luna chuckled.  
"No, of course not." She replied. "That would be foolish. Even if we managed to navigate to the other side, we would still have a long distance to travel."  
"So how are we going to get to the Lake of Avalon?"  
"Well, maybe if you wait, she'll show us." Harry retorted.  
Draco snorted, but followed the others into the forest.  
After a long time of walking, they finally reached a clearing. He, Draco and Neville looked around nervously. Luna, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content.  
"Errr, Luna?" Harry began. "What exactly are we waiting for?"  
"And why are we leaving now?" Neville added. "I mean, wouldn't it be wiser to leave near sunset, as that is when the veil will thin, and not in the middle of the day?"  
"You do know that it will still take hours for us to get there, right?" Luna asked. "And as for your question Harry, we're waiting for the Thestrals."  
For a long time, all three males were silent. Then Harry smiled and rolled his eyes.  
"Of course you would suggest using Thestrals." He said. "Only you would suggest such an outlandish thing."  
Luna smiled.  
"Thestrals are really nice creatures. They just get a bad reputation from the whole only being visible for those who have seen death, thing."  
"Okay, but where are they?" Neville asked.  
Luna did not reply. Instead, she drew a very large hunk of raw meet from the bag she had been carrying, and tossed it onto the ground. It would appear that the bag was enchanted to contain more than it appeared it should, as she proceeded to toss out many more hunks of raw meet, until there was a small pile. When she was done, she wiped her hands and waited.  
"The blood should draw them near." She explained.  
For a few minutes, nothing happened. And then, they heard the flapping of wings. First one, then two, then several more appeared. Soon, they had far more thestrals than they needed.  
"So, just to clarify, we can all see them, correct?" Harry asked.  
All three of his companions nodded.  
"Right, now what?" He continued.  
Luna stepped towards the gathering of thestrals. Harry was slightly nervous about her going so close to dangerous creatures, but then he reminded himself that Luna was a powerful sorceress and could take care of herself. She approached the thestrals and patted them gently, whispering comforting words to them. After a couple of minutes, she returned with four of the creatures.  
"Well that was easy." Neville muttered.  
"Pick a thestral." Luna told them.  
After they each chose a thestral, Harry drew his wand.  
"We should disillusion ourselves." He began. "So no one sees us."  
The three others nodded. He tapped his companions and the thestrals with his wand, casting a disillusionment charm on them all. He finished with himself.  
"Was it truly necessary to do it to the thestrals?" Draco asked.  
Harry nodded.  
"Just in case we pass someone who's actually seen death."  
"But how are we going to follow each other?"  
"The thestrals can smell each other." Luna explained.  
"Fine."  
"Come on." Neville interjected. "We need to find the Lake of Avalon by sunset. Errr, Luna, do you know where the Lake is from here."  
"The thestrals do."  
Harry could hear what he believed to be Draco face-palming.  
"It's a magic centre-point." Harry said. "So..."  
"So the thestrals can feel it's power." Luna finished. "And anyway, thestrals are great navigators."  
And with that, they awkwardly mounted their thestrals and flew off.

After several hours of flight, they finally reached their destination. As they landed, Harry lifted the disillusionment charm.  
As Harry looked around, he thought that the Lake of Avalon had not changed much in the past millennia and a half. It would appear the modern world had not touched it. It's beauty was still as pure and ancient as it had in his life as Mordred.  
Seeing it now, it reminded him of all he had had. All he had lost.   
All the times he had come with Nimue to visit her mother. And... And the day of Nimue's burial.  
He shook his head to clear his mind.  
The thestrals were just standing where they had landed, obviously waiting for them. Harry was thankful for the creatures' intelligence, as he did not know of how else they would get back. Draco and Neville were standing a few metres away, and Luna had walked over to the edge of the lake.  
When they had left, it had been just past midday. Now, the sun was just setting beyond the horizon. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in her hair, making it shine as brightly as the sun itself.  
He approached her quietly. She was obviously lost in thoughts and memories.  
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He said quietly.  
Luna turned to him.  
"It feels like just yesterday I was here." She said quietly.  
"Not much has changed." He continued.  
Luna shook her head.  
"Mother's house is gone."  
Harry looked around to find that, indeed, the house that had once belonged to Lady Vivien was gone.  
"But we will still see her." He said, squeezing her hand gently.  
Luna smiled and squeezed back.  
"I know."  
She suddenly sucked in a breath.  
"She's coming." She said.  
Harry blinked.  
"We've come just in time."  
Luna and he gestured for Neville and Draco to approach them. The other two joined them just as a mist appeared on the water.  
Soon, the mist was spread across the entire surface of the lake. He could feel his lover's hand clutching his tightly.  
Then, the mist coalesced into the centre of the lake. From the large mass of mist came a shadowy figure. The figure then came closer, and was revealed to be the Lady of the Lake herself.  
She was just as he remembered. Her hair braided down her back, her robes flowing in a non excitant breeze, her eyes shining with a mysterious light.  
All three males knelt as Vivien walked upon the earth of the riverbank, completely dry. However, Luna still stood.  
"Mother." She breathed.  
Vivien extended her arms, a wide smile upon her face.  
"My child, my daughter." She said. "Long have I waited for you. At last, you have returned to me."  
Luna then jumped into her mother's embrace. He and the two other males looked away, to give the two women some form of privacy.  
"Though it has been many centuries, and I have a new body, and a new name, I am still just as much your daughter as I once was." Luna said.  
"I know my child, I know."  
They then parted, and Vivien's gaze fell to the three men.  
"But you have not come to just see me."  
"I am sorry..." Luna began.  
"No need." Vivien interrupted. "I am aware of how important all of your roles are, and that you will need my help. Magic has been in an imbalance for too long, and it is time it was set right."  
She looked at the three males again.  
"Rise, King Arthur, King Mordred, Sir Galahad."  
They all rose to their feet. Vivien and Luna approached them. She looked at each of them in turn. Then, she turned to Draco.  
"It has taken you longer to come to your senses." She remarked.  
Draco ducked his head.  
"I am sorry for this."  
Vivien waved his words away.  
"No need for such words."  
She stared at him.  
"Be careful Sir Galahad, for you live in a pit of snakes, and snakes are truly dangerous creatures. Be extra careful around your father in this life, for he is truly lost to Morgana's spell."  
Draco looked down in shame.  
"But do not despair." Vivien continued. "For your mother may still be saved."  
Draco looked up and his lips twitched in a small smile.  
"In my last life, my mother died before I could save her." He began. "This time will be different."  
Vivien nodded.  
"See that it is."  
She then turned to Neville.  
"I know what you seek Arthur Pendragon." She began. "You seek the sword that I once gave to you."  
Neville nodded.  
"It will apparently serve as a symbol of my kingship."  
"Oh, it will do my than that." Vivien retorted. "For many of the old magical families, it marks you as magic's chosen champion. It is what gives you the right to rule. With Excalibur in your hand, you will be seen as the rightful king by the wizarding world."  
Neville blinked.  
"Am I worthy?" He asked. "I mean, I have made so many mistakes. I... My soul is marked as a kinslayer. I killed my own son."  
He glanced at Harry.  
"Worry not, for you are still worthy." Vivien replied. "While you may have changed greatly from the young man whom I first granted Excalibur to, you have proven that you are still worthy by admitting your floors. Everyone makes mistakes, and yet so many are too afraid or too proud to admit to them."  
She then extended her hand to her side. There was a glowing beam of light, and then she was holding the sword itself. Excalibur still shone as brightly as the day of the battle of Camlinn.  
Neville sucked in a breath. With shaking hands, he reached for the sword. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, and then he was holding it.  
Vivien then conjured a belt with a scabbard. She handed it to Neville, who, with some help from Vivien, put the belt on. He sheathed the sword in it's scabbard and stood a little straighter.  
"Thank you my lady." He began. "I swear, that this time, I will not fail in bringing peace to Britain."  
Vivien nodded. She then turned to Harry.  
"Mordred, son of Arthur." She began. "You have faced many hardships since last we spoke, both in this life and the last. And yet, you are still the same caring, brave young man that I would gladly call son-in-law."  
Harry smiled and blushed slightly.  
"Thank you, my lady."  
Vivien smiled.  
"Your parents from this life are also proud of your strength of character."  
Harry blinked in surprise.  
"My parents?"  
"Yes." Vivien replied. "Ever since Morgana killed them fourteen years ago, they have watched you. Every second of every day, they have watched you go through trials unnumbered, and seen you bloom, in spite of the pain you have suffered."  
She looked directly into his eyes.  
"They wished for me to tell you how proud they are, and how much they love and miss you. And that they are always with you, through the good and the bad."  
Harry had to blink away his tears.  
"Thank you." He breathed.  
Vivien smiled sadly.  
"I am afraid that the true hardships are only beginning." She began. "And you still need Caliburn, which represents your right to rule."  
"Where is it?" Harry asked.  
"You have already seen it in this life." Vivien replied. "You have held it in your hand, and have even used it to slay a great beast."  
Harry blinked. He thought he would remember wielding a sword. Wait... A great beast... And the only time he had actually used a... Memories flashed in his mind, of a ruby encrusted hilt, of how easily he had used it, despite no prior experience. And of how he had summoned it... He had drawn it from the sorting hat, much as Arthur had drawn it from the stone. And yes, it was now more heavily decorated, but still...  
"Caliburn is the sword of Gryffindor." He said in realisation.  
Vivien nodded.  
"But... But that's in Merlin's office." He spluttered. "How am I going to get it out?"  
Vivien continued to smile.  
"You shall see. Though, when you do ask for help, I do recommend that you exclude Sir Galahad from the meeting. His family does not have a very good relationship with the one who shall help you."  
Harry nodded, though not fully understanding.  
"Now, there is another matter." She began.  
"What?" They all asked.  
Vivien's lips twisted in a disgusted sneer that reminded him freakishly of Snape.  
"Do you not wonder, how it is that Morgana was able to survive when he was first defeated in this life?"  
They all blinked.  
"How?" Harry asked.  
Vivien sighed.  
"Morgana was corrupt before, but now..."  
She shook her head.  
"He has gone too far. This is just as horrific as what she did to you, dear Mordred, possibly even worse."  
Harry blinked. What could possibly be worse than raising your own son to one day kill his own father in some twisted revenge scheme? He soon got his answer.  
"He has split his soul and created objects known as Horcruxes."  
They all gasped.  
"Split his soul?" Neville said in shocked horror.  
"Wait... You said "Horcruxes", implying that there is more than one." Harry continued. "Just how many times did he split his soul?"  
Vivien sighed.  
"His soul is now in eight pieces. One, you have already destroyed."  
"The diary?" Harry said in surprise.  
Vivien nodded.  
"Now there are six Horcruxes remaining, though one was unintentional."  
"What was the unintentional one?" Draco asked.  
Vivien only looked at Harry. Or, more specifically, at his scar. Harry's eyes widened.  
"You, you don't mean...?"  
Vivien nodded.  
"Have you not found it strange, that you can speak to snakes, just as Morgana can in this life? Or that you can sometimes sense him when he is near or feeling strong emotions? Or, that you sometimes see what he sees?"  
Harry blinked. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.  
He had a piece of Voldemort's soul in his forehead? Wait, did that count as having a part of his mother in his forehead? It gave him a headache just thinking about it.  
"How do we get it out?" He asked.  
"It should be easy, with magic's blessing." Vivien replied. "And once I remove the piece of soul from you, I should be able to summon the other shards and send them to whatever punishment magic has awaiting his corrupt soul."  
Harry nodded.  
"Please, do it."  
"It will hurt." She warned.  
"I don't care." He argued. "It will be worth it if it means that Morgana can be killed."  
With that, Vivien reached out a hand to him. Suddenly, pain shot through his forehead, the like of which he had never felt before. It was so overwhelming that he fell to his knees. He could have sworn he felt someone catching him in their arms. He could have also sworn he saw what appeared to be dark vapor appearing from his forehead. However, he could hardly register this, as he was in to much pain to think of anything.  
Then, thankfully, he fell into unconsciousness.

His vision focused in a large room, lit only by a blazing fire. In front of the fire, however, was Voldemort. His Snake Nagini was slithering on the ground beside the chair he sat in, more of a throne than a chair. At his feet was a figure in a scull mask and dark robes. However, the food was down and the light hair made it obvious that this was in fact Lucius Malfoy.  
"... We have not had much success in entering the Department of Mysteries yet my lord." He was saying. "Dumbledore still keeps a vigilant guard every night."  
"You must find a way of taking the guard out without raising suspicion." Voldemort replied in his high-pitched voice. "What of Minister Fudge?"  
"Still complacent." Malfoy replied. "Still apposing Dumbledore, and still listening to our suggestions."  
Voldemort grinned.  
"Good, we have to... ahhh!!!"  
"My lord!"  
Malfoy stood in surprise. Many more Death-Eaters who had been standing in the shadows lurched forwards, obviously worried for their master.  
Then, suddenly, Voldemort's snake exploded. Bits of matter flew everywhere, and a black vapor appeared and floated into the distance.   
Voldemort was clutching his head and screaming in pain. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. Only for it to be replaced with an uncontrollable rage.  
"Nagini!" He screamed. "What happened!"  
"I I do not know my lord." Malfoy spluttered.  
"Crucio!"  
Malfoy rived on the ground in agony. After several more minutes, Voldemort lifted the curse.  
"Go! Go!" He shouted at the Death-Eaters. "Except for you, Severus."  
As the Death-Eaters quickly left the room, Snape stepped out from the shadows.  
"Yes, my lord?" He said, kneeling down.  
"What do you have to report, Severus?" Voldemort demanded.  
"Dumbledore will still not tell the Order of the Phoenix why they are guarding the Department of Mysteries, nor will he even inform the Potter boy of anything." Snape replied. "He also seems to be keeping his distance from Potter."  
"Truly?" Voldemort asked.  
"Yes my lord." Snape replied.  
"Do you know anything of what had just happened to myself and Nagini?"  
"No." Snape replied. "If I had heard of any plots against you or your snake, I would have informed you immediately."  
"Good." Voldemort purred. "At least I know that you are loyal, Severus."  
"Of course my lord." Snape replied quickly. "I must leave, I am afraid, before my absence is noticed."  
"Fine then, go." Voldemort said, dismissing him.  
Snape got up and left the room. Voldemort sat back in his throne-like chair and grinned.  
"Oh Emrys." He said. "You are truly a fool to distance yourself from your champion. I suppose you think he is loyal enough to you."  
His grin then widened.  
"But my Guileless Son is still loyal to me, and this time you are foolish enough to think that he is loyal to you."  
Voldemort chuckled.  
"The power of love indeed."  
He began to hum that all too familiar tune. And then, Harry awoke.

Harry sat up, gasping. He blinked and looked around.  
Neville and Draco sat a metre or two away from him, and Luna lay snuggled up next to him. He noted that night had fallen while he had been unconscious.  
"Luna?" He said weakly.  
His lover awoke and blinked up at him.  
"My tarnished silver." She said, sitting up. "Are you alright?"  
"Yeah." He replied, smiling weakly. "My head's a bit saw, but I'm fine. Where's Vivien?"  
Luna frowned sadly.  
"After she destroyed the Horcruxes, her work here was done. She returned to the isle of Avalon, holding the fragments of Voldemort's soul."  
"Oh." He replied, wrapping an arm around her. "I'm sorry you did not get some more time with her."  
Luna smiled sadly.  
"It is fine. At least I got to see her."  
Harry also smiled.  
"Come on, it's getting pretty late, and we should return to Hogwarts. Plus, I need to tell you guys about this vision I had."

They had quickly disillusioned themselves and the thestrals again, before mounting and leaving the Lake of Avalon behind. During the journey back, Harry told the others about the vision he had had concerning Voldemort.  
"This is very concerning." Neville finally said. "If there is something that's in the Department of Mysteries that Dumbledore is hiding from even his closest followers..."  
"They probably know some of the truth." Harry retorted. "That's how he works. He gives you part of the information, and leaves other parts out."  
"So what do you think it is?" Neville asked.  
"Don't know." Harry replied.  
"Nor do I." Luna added.  
"Don't look at me, just because my father in this life is one of those mask-wearing idiots, doesn't mean I know everything about what goes on." Draco said.  
"But Voldemort does know that his horcruxes have been destroyed." Luna continued.  
"And if he didn't work it out when he got a very bad headache and when his snake exploded, he's probably figured it out by now." Harry remarked. "He might be insane, but he's also smart."  
"Why do you think he got a headache?" Neville asked.  
"He could probably sense his soul shards being forced out of his horcruxes." Luna replied.  
"Yeah, maybe." Harry agreed. "But what most concerns me is that he remembers."  
"We don't know that for sure." Draco argued.  
"He called Dumbledore Emrys, said Guileless Son, and hummed that song." Harry retorted. "I'm pretty sure he remembers."  
"What I mean," Draco began, his teeth obviously gritted. "Is that we do not know if he completely remembers, or if he only remembers partially like we believe Dumbledore does."  
"Right." Harry replied. "But at least he does not seem to be able to recognise who's who."  
He heard a snort of laugher.  
"I still cannot believe he thinks that Snape is..."  
"Shut up Draco."  
"Oh come on, it's a little funny."  
"No, it's a little disturbing." Harry retorted. "Especially since I now feel unsure about where Snape's loyalties lie."  
"Do not worry." Luna began. "He loved you in his previous life. I am sure he will love you still."  
"I hope your right." Harry muttered.

It was late by the time they returned to the Forbidden Forest. They lifted the disillusionment charm from the thestrals and left the dark clearing. They walked through the forest until they reached the edge of the trees. They did not bump into any trouble while walking through the grounds and into the castle. They lifted the disillusionment charm from Draco, who might not get into trouble due to his status as a prefect. Harry Neville and Luna were about to go up the staircase to go to their respective dormitories, when they heard a voice.  
"Reveal yourself."  
They all froze. Out of all the people to catch them... Snape?  
"I know you are there." Snape said as he emerged from the shadows. "I saw you open the doors. I can excuse Mr Malfoy, as he is a prefect. Reveal yourself now."  
Harry sighed in defeat and disillusioned himself, leaving the others still cloaked.  
"Go." He whispered to them. "I'll handle him."  
"Potter." Snape said, sneering. "I should have known you would be up to no good. After all, I noticed your absence at the Halloween feast."  
"Sorry." Harry said. "Just out for a walk. Nice night, right?"  
"Just come to my office, now." Snape replied.  
Harry sighed. He was going to be in so much trouble.  
He followed Snape into the dungeons. Their footsteps echoed in the silent halls.  
Finally, they reached Snape's office. They entered and Snape gestured for him to sit. As he did, he noticed Snape looking at him strangely.  
Snape sat down in the chair behind his desk and proceeded to stare at him. Harry met the man's dark gaze. There was something in his eyes. Something... Something that he had not seen before... No, he had seen it before, just not in this life.  
Without words, Harry knew.  
"You remember." He breathed.  
"Yes." Snape replied softly.  
Harry clenched his fists nervously. He did not know how to act. His father had always been a stern man, not prone to shows of emotion. But Harry had to hold back a flood of tears and guilt. This man had tried to warn him, several times, not to fall for his mother's tricks. He had sworn loyalty to him, fought for him, even when he disagreed with his decisions. And it had been because of him that the man had died. He had died fighting his war.  
The man had loved him as if he were his own son, despite the truth of his birth. And how had he repaid him...?  
"And I presume you have remembered since before the beginning of the term." Snape continued.  
"Yeah, since a day before term began." Harry replied. "But how did you..."  
"You have been acting nicely towards me for the entire term." Snape replied. "And on the first day, you suggested I should go on a holiday to Orkney of all places."  
"And when did you remember?" Harry asked.  
"This morning." Snape replied. "I could recognise you at breakfast, among others."  
They continued to stare at each other. Then, Harry could no longer hold back his guilt.  
"I... I'm sorry." He said, tears beginning to run down his face. "I was an idiot, and childish, and I... I..."  
"Potter."  
"You warned me so many times, about Morgana and about how she was using me..."  
"Potter."  
"You even told me about the bloody prophecy, but I was too blind to listen. And I started a war with Arthur, and that caused your death... And I am so, so sorry..."  
"Mordred!"  
Harry looked up. He did not see hatred in Snape's eyes. Nor did he see anger. Even the man's usual sneer was gone. Instead, he saw the same expression the man had the last time they had spoken. The day he had revealed the true prophecy to him. His eyes shone with regret and sorrow, though his face showed a more unusual expression for the man. An expression of affection.  
"Stop your crying." The man said, though with a gentleness Harry was not familiar with.  
"S sorry." Harry said.  
"And stop saying sorry." Snape added. "I am not angry with you."  
"Your not?"  
"No, I am not." Snape replied. "You were only a young man, manipulated his entire life by his mother. I should have done more to keep the two of you separated."  
He looked down and laughed bitterly.  
"Though our marriage was at first political, and despite our constant arguments, I grew to actually care for that woman."  
Snape clenched his fist.  
"I know how enticing she could be, and I should have done more to protect you. But I did not."  
Harry smiled sadly.  
"We are both at fault." He said. "I am the one who actually started the war. And I am the one who didn't listen to you."  
He looked up into his father's eyes.  
"But now we have a chance to make up for our mistakes." He began. "Now we can actually bring peace, not war, to Britain. All we have to do is..."  
"Yes, yes." Snape interrupted. "I have noticed that Dumbledore is Merlin and that Voldemort is Morgana, and I would rather not think of the implications."  
Harry grinned.  
"So, who are you going to side with? You seem to have a foot in each camp."  
Snape frowned.  
"I would prefer neither." He replied.  
"Great." Harry said. "So does this mean you will be siding with us?"  
He hoped Snape would agree. He really, really wanted his other father back. Plus, Snape was like a superspy. He would have information from both Voldemort and Dumbledore.  
"Define, us." Snape replied.  
"Well, so far it's Galahad, Nimue, and Arthur..."  
"And I still cannot believe that Longbottom is Arthur." Snape said. "I saw it at breakfast, and I was honestly surprised."  
Harry blinked.  
"Right, said that you have remembered since breakfast."  
"Yes." Snape sighed. "But I was attempting to come to terms with everything."  
Harry nodded.  
"Okay, so, will you help us?"  
Snape stared at him for a long time. Finally, he said only one word.  
"Always."  
Harry smiled widely.  
"Thank you Father."  
"Do not go that far Potter." Snape retorted. "I am still trying to come to terms with this."  
"Right, right." Harry replied. "Take all the time you need."  
Snape sighed.  
"So, how can I help you?"  
Harry thought for a few seconds.  
"A few things, actually." He began. "Do you think you can distract Dumbledore long enough for me to sneak into his office?"  
"Dare I ask why you need to sneak into Dumbledore's office?" Snape asked dryly.  
"Okay, long story short, the sword of Gryffindor is Caliburn, and I need it."  
Snape sighed and began to rub his temples.  
"Yes, I believe I can." He said finally. "Anything else?"  
"Yeah." Harry continued. "What's in the Department of Mysteries?"  
"How do you...?" Snape began, before shaking his head. "Never mind."  
He sighed.  
"It is complicated."  
"Go on." Harry urged.

Later that night, Harry met Luna at the usual spot on the astronomy tower. His mind was full of thoughts and emotions. Mostly anger and frustration.  
As soon as Luna saw him, she went to him and wrapped her arms around him.  
"My tarnished silver." She began. "What is troubling you?"  
Harry sighed.  
"It's a long story."  
They both sat down and Harry told her about his conversation with Snape. By the end of it, she was frowning in concern.  
"So the thing that Dumbledore is guarding in the Department of Mysteries is a prophecy concerning you and Voldemort?"  
"Yeah, typical." He replied. "Why must prophecies always ruin my life!"  
He banged a fist on the bench they were sitting on.  
"In my old life, it led to my own mother manipulating me. Now, it is the reason for my parents dying, for Voldemort wanting to kill me, and for Dumbledore manipulating my entire life."  
Luna touched his shoulder gently.  
"Do not worry yourself." She began. "We are aiming to change our fates, after all."  
Harry sighed and wrapped his arm around his lover.  
"Yeah, I know." He replied. "It's just, I guess I'm just frustrated that no matter what, prophecies seem to want to ruin my life."  
She leaned into him. Harry sighed in contentment.  
He had gained yet another lost loved one from his past, and had also discovered exactly why Voldemort seemed so determined to kill him.  
Luna was right, he was aiming to rewrite the stars. Old prophecies would be null and void if he had anything to say about it.  
"Remind me, when Neville and I take over, to remove divination from the Hogwarts curriculum." He muttered into her soft hair. "There are enough seers in the world and running a muck."  
Luna chuckled and stroked his back.  
"As you wish, my love. As you wish."


	20. The King's Sword Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They break into Dumbledore's office, and end up finding more than Caliburn.

Chapter 20:

On the day after Samhain, Harry, Neville, Luna and Draco all sat under the tree near the Black Lake.  
"So," Neville began. "Snape's now remembered?"  
Harry nodded.  
"And he's agreed to help distract Dumbledore while we get Caliburn."  
Neville nodded.  
"Good, now all we need to do is figure out how to get into Dumbledore's office."  
Draco scoffed.  
"He's always making the password some form of sweet, right?"  
Harry nodded.  
"Yes, but it could be anything, and we may not have enough time to guess all of the sweets we can think of until we get the right one."  
"And anyway," Luna added. "We need to find a way in there that is not the gargoyle, just in case it tells Dumbledore that we've been in his office."  
Draco frowned.  
"How are we supposed to get in there, on a broom?"  
Harry shook his head.  
"The window's probably warded."  
"So how are we going to get in?"  
They were all silent.  
"My Mother advised that Draco shouldn't be present when we asked for the help we will need." Luna began.  
Harry nodded.  
"So it's someone who has a bad experience with him. That isn't exactly narrowing down the list, no offense Draco."  
"Non taken." Draco replied sarcastically.  
Neville began tapping his chin.  
"I don't know who will be able to get into Dumbledore's office. It's not like we can apperate because of the wards."  
Harry frowned. Yes, humans could not apperate within Hogwarts... But he knew creatures that did. House-elves, for example could...  
He slapped his forehead.  
"Of course." He said.  
"What?" Neville and Draco asked at the same time. Luna only gave him a knowing smile.  
"House-elves." Harry replied. "They can apperate within Hogwarts. And I even know one who will be willing to help."  
Neville frowned.  
"Who?"  
"Errr," Harry began, shuffling nervously and glancing at Draco. "I don't think it's a good idea to say his name at the moment. He used to work for the Malfoys before I tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing him..."  
Draco's eyes widened.  
"You mean..."  
"Don't." Harry interrupted. "We don't want to accidentally summon him."  
"Draco," Neville began suspiciously. "What did you do?"  
"It wasn't me." Draco said quickly. "It was mostly my father..."  
"Mostly?"  
"Well, I umm..." Draco began fiddling with his fingers. "I wasn't as bad as my father..."  
"Wasn't as bad?"  
"Hey, I feel sorry for it now."  
"Okay, enough." Harry interrupted. "We've all made mistakes, let's just focus on the present."  
Both of them nodded.  
"So, when should we do this?" Luna asked.  
"I'll see when Snape is free." Harry replied. "Then Luna, Neville and I can call for our little helper. Draco, you can keep watch for any teachers that may try to get in."  
All three nodded.  
"Great." He said. "Sounds like a plan."

He met with Snape and organised for a time. They eventually decided for Monday, just after the last lesson, and a couple hours before dinner.  
So on Monday around 4:00 p.m., he, Luna, Draco and Neville waited in an empty classroom near Dumbledore's office, waiting for Snape and the old headmaster to pass. After a few minutes of waiting, they could hear the gargoyle moving. He peaked out of the door of the classroom to see Snape and Dumbledore walk past, talking quietly. He waited a few minutes, until they were out of earshot. He gestured to Draco and silently, the blond slipped out of the room and snuck into a dark shadowy corner near the gargoyle.   
He closed the door and turned to Neville and Luna.  
"Okay," He began. "Are you ready?"  
They both nodded.  
"Okay." He repeated. "Here goes nothing. And please, don't laugh."  
"Why would we...?" Neville began.  
"Dobby?"  
Suddenly, there was a crack. The house-elf was now standing in the middle of the room, bouncing up and down excitedly.  
"Mr Harry Potter sir has called Dobby," Dobby began in his high-pitched voice. "Dobby is so happy to see..."  
"Okay, okay, Dobby, please calm down." Harry interrupted. He could hear Neville chuckling, and even Luna was grinning.  
"Dobby is sorry Harry Potter sir..."  
"No, it's okay." Harry replied quickly. "Just please, I kind of need your help."  
"Dobby will be happy to help the great Harry Potter sir." Dobby replied, still jumping on his feet.  
Neville was shaking with his held back laughter. Harry decided to ignore him.  
"Now, this is really important." He began. "You cannot tell anyone."  
"Dobby won't tell anyone about Harry Potter's secret mission for Dobby." Dobby replied.  
"Okay." Harry continued. "I know that this is a lot to ask of you, but I really need your help. You don't have to do it if you don't want to..."  
"Dobby will be happy to help the great Harry Potter, no matter what the risk." Dobby replied determinedly.  
"Thank you." Harry replied. "I need your help. You can apperate within the wards of Hogwarts, right?"  
"Yes, Dobby can Sir."  
"Great." Harry said. "Do you think you could... Errr, help my friends and I sneak into Dumbledore's office? You don't have to, if you don't want to. I know that Dumbledore is kind of your boss and all..."  
"Dobby is loyal to Harry Potter." Dobby replied. "Harry Potter is kind, and brave and good to Dobby and all living creatures. Harry Potter is the reason why Dobby is free, and Dobby owes him so much... Harry Potter is the reason why Dobby came to Hogwarts in the first place, to help Harry Potter, even if Harry Potter asked him not to..."  
"Hey, hey, thanks." Harry replied quickly. "So, can you help us?"  
"Yes, yes of course." Dobby replied. "But may Dobby ask, why does Harry Potter want to go into the headmaster's office?"  
"There is something I need, something that belongs to me." He replied.  
Dobby nodded.  
Harry turned to Luna and Neville, the latter of whom was still shaking from suppressed laughter.  
"Are you ready?" He asked.  
"Yes." Luna replied.  
Harry glared at Neville.  
"Stop that."  
"S sorry." Neville spluttered through his laughter. "It's just... Why didn't you mention your friend was the house-elf version of Colin Creevey?"  
"Oh, for the love of..." He muttered. "What ever you do, do not introduce Dobby to the Creevey brothers. They'll probably start a Harry Potter cult or something."  
"I don't know," Luna said. "You could use some fan support considering the efforts of the ministry to tarnish your reputation."  
"Hey, who's side are you on?" Harry asked.  
"I'm on the side that gets your sword." Luna replied.  
"Right, right." He said, before turning to Dobby.  
"You ready?"  
"Dobby is always ready to help the great Harry Potter Sir."  
"Great."  
He and Luna grabbed an elbow each, while Neville grabbed onto Harry. With a loud crack, they all vanished from the classroom and appeared in the headmaster's office.  
It was not hard to find the sword. It was in a glass-fronted cabinet against the wall. He walked over to it, but quickly scanned for enchantments. And unfortunately, it appeared that Dumbledore had warded it.  
"Dam." He said. "Now how are we..."  
There was a sudden musical trill. They all looked up to see Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix.  
"Fawkes..." He began nervously. He was afraid that the phoenix would attempt to tell Dumbledore of their little adventure into his office. He did not know how he could have forgotten about the fiery bird. How could he have been so stupid?  
Fawkes flew over to him and landed on his shoulder. He looked into Harry's eyes, and suddenly his mind was flooded with memories from his life as Mordred.

He was twelve, and it had been a few weeks since he had first arrived in Camelot. He was walking through the courtyards, when he heard music. The most beautiful and haunting song he had ever heard.  
He followed the sound of the music until he came to a fair-haired man he recognised as one of Arthur's knights. He was playing a harp and singing softly. Mordred just stood there and listened, mesmerised.  
When the song was finished, the man looked up and their eyes met.  
"Hello there." He said softly.  
"I..." Mordred began, still stunned from the music.  
The man chuckled.  
"You are one of the son's of Lot who have just arrived, are you not?" The man asked.  
"Yes." Mordred replied. "I am Mordred, fifth son."  
The man nodded.  
"It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Tristan of Cornwall."  
Mordred walked over to him hesitantly.  
"That song, it was so beautiful."  
Tristan smiled shyly.  
"Thank you. I quite enjoy music, even if it brings me pain."  
"If you do not mind me asking, what was the song about?" Mordred asked.  
Tristan smiled sadly.  
"A love that can never be."  
Mordred frowned.  
"Why?"  
Tristan sighed.  
"Sometimes the heart wants what it cannot have." He replied. "Love, you see, is a very complicated thing."  
Mordred frowned.  
"I do not understand."  
"You will." Tristan replied. "Some day, you will."

He was now fifteen, and it was a few days after he watched Nimue's death. He was sitting in one of the gardens, staring at the sunset. He was lost in his thoughts, until he heard someone sit beside him.  
"Care for some company?"  
He turned to see Tristan, staring at him sympathetically.  
Mordred only nodded. They sat in silence for a long time, before he spoke.  
"I understand now." He said. "What you meant the first time we met. Love is a complicated thing."  
Tristan sighed and nodded.  
"It can heal, just as much as it can harm."  
Mordred nodded. He clenched his fist.  
"I just cannot understand," He began. "It was Guinevere who told Merlin of Nimue's practices, she knew of her secrets. But how could she have done such a thing?"  
Tristan shook his head sadly.  
"GUINEVERE did what she did in the name of the law, I am sure."  
"But that is just it," Mordred argued. "How can she betray someone who trusted her in the name of the law, but still constantly commit treason and adultery with Lancelot?"  
Tristan sighed.  
"She loves him." He replied. "And Lancelot loves her."  
"But Arthur trusts them both." Mordred argued. "How can they betray Arthur's trust like that?"  
Tristan stared off into the distance.  
"Lancelot knows that what he is doing is wrong, and yet he cannot help his feelings. I understand such a feeling."  
Mordred stared at him.  
"That song you were singing... What was it about?"  
Tristan was silent for a long time. Finally, he sighed and his eyes met Mordred's.  
"My Uncle is the King of Cornwall," He began. "Many years ago, he decided to wed a princess of Ireland, Isolt. She was said to be beautiful and an incredible healer. My Uncle sent me to escort her back to Cornwall."  
He sighed and laughed bitterly.  
"On the way, we became closer. And... Something bloomed between the two of us. I do not know how, and I do not know why, but... Our hearts began to sing for each other. Even after she and my Uncle were wed... The pain eventually became so much, that I had to leave."  
Mordred's eyes were wide.  
"Do you ever regret, leaving her and Cornwall?" He asked hesitantly.  
"Sometimes." Tristan replied. "Sometimes I wish I could take ship, sail to Cornwall and steal Isolt in the middle of the night."  
"Why do you not?"  
"Because," Tristan replied. "I know that it will be wrong. She is married, and it would be wrong for the two of us to act upon our feelings, no matter how either of us feel."  
Mordred stared at the man with a new found respect.  
"You are truly a great man." He breathed. "A far better man than Lancelot will ever be."  
Tristan smiled.  
"Thank you."  
His eyes flicked back to the sunset.  
"Does it ever get better, the pain?"  
"No." Tristan replied. "However, if you try hard enough, you may learn to handle it better."

Harry returned to the present, his eyes wide.  
"Harry, are you okay?" He could hear Neville ask.  
"Tristan?" He breathed.  
The phoenix squawked in reply.  
"W what are you doing here?" Harry asked, still in shock.  
Tristan showed him more memories, this time belonging to the phoenix himself.

He was flying with another Phoenix, Isolt. Suddenly, a man with greying red hair appeared. He attempted to cast a spell on the two phoenixes. Tristan pushed his love away, and took the full brunt of the spell. Isolt disappeared in a burst of flame, and Tristan was bound by the wizard. It hurt to be separated from his love, but it was worth it, for she was not enslaved as he was.

Scenes began to flicker. Originally, the bound had been strong. But gradually, over several decades, it weakened. The wizard, Dumbledore, did not notice. Either that, or he was confident in his power to control the phoenix.  
Tristan only bided his time, waiting for the bond to break.  
Finally, he felt that the passage of time had finally, mercifully, broken the bond. However, he did not leave. He could not leave.  
On the night that the last of the strings binding him to Dumbledore were about to break, the old man invited two men and two women in his office. The two women both held a bundle each...  
He could sense a familiar presence coming from both of the bundles...  
He studied the bundles... Two male infants, a mere handful of days old...  
He recognised them. He could sense that one day they would be instrumental in destroying the cruel wizard who had done so much wrong.  
He glanced over to where the old man kept the sword, as if it were some sort of trophy. He knew that one day, one of the men in infant form would need it. He felt that, for now, he will have to wait, to ensure the man received his sword...

Harry blinked as he returned to the present. He could feel tears in his eyes.  
"Y you stayed, so you could help me get Caliburn?" He asked, amazed.  
Tristan squawked.  
"Thank you." He breathed.  
He then remembered, in the chamber of secrets, when the phoenix had given him the hat, from which he drew the sword.  
"You meant to give me it then, back in the chamber." He said. "But I did not remember then, and I foolishly gave it back to Dumbledore."  
Tristan chirped mournfully.  
"Errr, Harry?" Neville asked hesitantly.  
He looked up to see the other man staring at him.  
"Neville, it's Tristan." He said. "Dumbledore forcefully bound him decades ago. He... The bond broke fifteen years ago, but he stayed to ensure I got Caliburn."  
Neville blinked. Then, his eyes turned dark.  
"Only another crime Dumbledore must pay for."  
He walked towards Harry and Tristan hesitantly.  
"Hello Tristan." He said gently.  
Tristan chirped and bowed his head.  
"So," Harry began. "Tristan, can you... Help me break the wards?"  
Tristan spread his wings and flew off of Harry's shoulder. He landed on top of the cabinet containing Caliburn. Suddenly, flames began to erupt around the cabinet, quickly consuming the entire thing, sword and all. After only a few seconds, the flames vanished. Tristan was still perched in the exact same place. However, Harry could feel that the wards were gone.  
"Thank you." Harry said, smiling widely.  
He approached the cabinet carefully. It only took a single unlocking charm, and the glass door swung open. He reached out a shaking hand. The last time he had wielded this sword... Well, technically it had been when he had slain the basilisk, but he had not know what it was back then. The last time he had known what he was holding, it had been the battle of Camlinn. The last time this sword had been in his hand, he had slain Arthur.  
He shook his head. Now would be different. He would not use this to betray his father and friend. He would wield it to free magical Britain from the constant war of Merlin and Morgana.  
His fingers wrapped around the hilt. He pulled it out of the cabinet, to reveal what appeared to be a belt with it's own scabbard. He took these out too, and Neville assisted him in putting it on. Once this was done, he turned to face Luna. She was smiling at him.  
"How does it feel?"  
He looked down at the sword in his hand.  
"It feels... Strange." He admitted. "Having it back in my hand after so long."  
He heard a gasp, and looked down to see Dobby, his eyes so wide that Harry feared they would pop out.  
"Errr, Dobby?" He asked nervously.  
Dobby's finger kept shakily flicking between Harry and the sword. Harry was becoming quite concerned for the house-elf's health.  
"Dobby, are you...?" He began.  
"Dobby knew that Harry Potter was a great man," He began. "But dobby did not know he was the promised one."  
"Errr, what?" Harry asked.  
"The promised one." Dobby replied. "It is a legend told to all magical creatures. It is said that, many many years ago, their lived a great king who fought for the freedom of magic..."  
"Errr..." Harry did not know what to say about this. He knew that, no matter what the source, he was remembered as the great traitor. He was never referred to as a great king.  
Dobby continued.  
"It is said that he fought a great battle, and died killing the king and the dark wizard who wished to control all magic. And that the goblins managed to find the great king's sword and hide it away. For it is said that the great king, the promised one, will return. And when he does, magic and all her creatures will be free. Werewolves and goblins will be treated like witches and wizards, centaurs will be free to go where they wish, and house-elves will be treated like Dobby wants to."  
He continued to stare at Harry, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable.  
"Errr, okay." He began. "Look, Dobby, I don't know about this whole "Promised One", thing, but I do know that I plan to bring balance to magical Britain."  
"Oh, this is so incredible!" Dobby exclaimed, jumping up and down. "It is true! It is true! The kind and noble Harry Potter is the Promised One! We are going to be free! Maybe then Winky will stop being so sad and drinking every night."  
"Okay, okay, Dobby, please." Harry said, trying to calm the house-elf down. "Look, I'm not going to do this alone. I've got my friends here, and their are more. But that is still not enough. Both Voldemort and Dumbledore stand in our way. We need all the help we can get to stop them."  
"Dobby would be happy to help. Dobby will do whatever the great Harry Potter wishes of him."  
"Okay, okay," Harry replied. "Do you know how many house-elves know about this old legends? And how many would be willing to follow me?"  
"Oh, Dobby thinks that most house-elves, if not all, would follow the Promised One." Dobby replied. "We have all been waiting, but many no longer hold much hope. But if they see you with the sword, they will definitely follow the great Harry Potter."  
Harry nodded.  
"Good, can you organise this?"  
"Oh, Dobby can." Dobby replied. "Dobby would be honored to do such an important task for the Promised One."  
Harry suppressed a sigh. Another title, just what he needed. But at least it may help him with the house-elves at least.  
Luna then cleared her throat.  
"There is another thing." She said. "Concerning a group we wish to form..."  
"Oh, right." Harry remembered. They had been having trouble finding a suitable place for their secret group. "Dobby, do you know of a place in this castle that cannot be found by people who the users do not wish to find it? Somewhere where people can be trained to defend themselves?"  
Dobby was quiet for a long time. Finally, he jumped up excitedly.  
"Yes, Dobby knows." He said. "The come-and-go room."  
"Really?" Harry asked.  
"Yes." Dobby replied. "It is a room on the seventh floor. It is hidden, all someone has to do is pass past the wall three times, thinking about the kind of room they want, and it will appear. And it can be hidden from people you do not want finding it."  
Harry smiled.  
"That's great."  
Dobby smiled.  
"Dobby his always glad to help the great Harry Potter."  
Harry smiled.  
"Luna, pease can you put the fake sword into the cabinet?"  
Luna approached the cabinet that had previously held the sword. She drew from a bag a stick that had been transfigured into a sword. She quickly relocked the cabinet and began to reassemble the wards. This was a much easier process than breaking down the wards of someone else, therefore, they did not need to ask Tristan for help.  
Speaking of which, the phoenix was still perched on the cabinet. Harry looked up at him.  
"You have done well Sir Tristan." He said. "Thank you for remaining under the control of Dumbledore, awaiting me to reclaim the sword Caliburn. May you reunite with Isolt, and may peace and harmony find you."  
Tristan let out a beautiful trill, before extending his wings and taking flight. Harry quickly went to the window and opened it. Just as he had opened the window, a gold a red blur flew past him. He, Neville and Luna looked out the window to see the fiery bird flying through the sky, free at last. Suddenly, a second fiery ball lit in the sky, and a second phoenix appeared. Isolt, finally able to reunite with her love.  
The two phoenixes spiraled in the air as one, trailing a brilliant stream of fire behind them. They began to sing a song of love and reunion. He looked to Luna, his own once lost love.  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" He asked.  
Luna smiled.  
"At last, they are entwined."  
Harry nodded.  
"Love is a complicated thing." He said. "It can heal, just as much as it can hurt. But all this makes love worth all the pain."  
He grasped her hand.  
"All that I have suffered, it is all worth it, because I have you. And all the fain yet to come will be worth it, because I will always have you."  
His grip on her hand tightened.  
"I will not lose you again."  
She smiled and stroked his face.  
"And I will not lose you, my Tarnished Silver."  
They were broken from their moment from the sound of a throat cleared. Harry looked up, his face pink, to see Neville staring at them nervously.  
"Errr, sorry." The man began. "But errr, we should probably go now. Dumbledore may be back soon."  
Harry smiled. He put Caliburn in it's sheath, and turned to Dobby. For the first time, he actually felt powerful enough to take on Dumbledore and Voldemort. He was somehow stronger, now that he had Caliburn. Perhaps it was some form of magic, though he did not know.  
It did not matter. Now, he was a king, and he had the sword to prove it. Now, it was time to free the World of Magical Britain.


	21. A new order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first actual meeting of the new defense group.

Chapter 21:

"So wait," Ron began. "There's this secret room that can be literally anything, and all we need to do is pace by it and think about what we want?"  
Harry nodded. He had just told Ron and Hermione about what Dobby had called the "come-and-go room", or, as it is better known as, the "Room of Requirement". They had both been surprised.  
"And Dobby has just told you this?" Hermione asked.  
"Yes." Harry replied.  
"What gave you the idea to ask him?" Ron continued.  
"Luna suggested it." He replied calmly.  
Ron rolled his eyes.  
"Do you have a problem Ron?" He asked.  
"Nothing." Ron replied. "It's just... Of course you got the idea from your girlfriend."  
"What's wrong with my girlfriend?" Harry asked, a bit irritated.  
"Nothing." Ron replied. "It's just..."  
He sighed.  
"You seem to be spending a lot of time with her. Half the time we don't even know what you're doing."  
Harry frowned and turned to Hermione.  
"Do you feel the same?" He asked.  
"Well..." Hermione began hesitantly. "You have been spending a lot less time with us and a lot more time with Luna..."  
"Aren't I allowed to spend time with my lover?"  
"No, no, it's not that," Hermione began.  
"Just feels like you're well... Drifting away from us." Ron continued. "It's not just Luna. You've been spending more time with Neville, and even Malfoy. And it feels like you're not telling us a lot of stuff and... Well, we're involved with the planning of this secret group as much as you, but you didn't even involve us in this conversation with Dobby."  
"I'm sorry." Harry replied. "It was a spur of the moment thing, really. I would have called Dobby with you guys around if..."  
"That's just it." Hermione interrupted. "We hardly see you any more. It just feels like... Are you trying to pay us back for withholding information from you this summer?"  
Harry blinked.  
"No, of course not." He replied.  
"Then what's going on?" Ron demanded. "What aren't you telling us?"  
Harry closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.  
"Look, it's complicated..."  
"Don't you trust us?" Hermione asked.  
"Yes, of course I do." Harry replied quickly. "It's just... There are some things, that I can't tell you about yet."  
"Well, when can you?" Ron asked.  
Harry sighed.  
"Soon, I promise. Soon enough, everything will make sense. It's just... You'll have to trust me, okay?"  
Hermione sighed.  
"Of course we trust you, it's just..."  
"You're making it very hard at the moment." Ron finished.  
"I know, I know." Harry said. "Just please, be patient. Everything will make sense soon."  
"I'm holding you to that." Ron said. "Now, about this room..."

It only took them a week to organise the first official meeting of the group in the Room of Requirement. They had passed secret messages to all who had been in the Hog's Head, telling them of the time and place. Now, Harry stood with Neville, facing the blank wall Dobby had told them hid a secret shapeshifting room.  
"Okay," Harry began. "How are we going to do this?"  
"I think we should both pace." Neville replied. "So it's visible to both of us. Hopefully the room will be able to recognise who we want to come in, and it will become visible to them."  
Harry frowned.  
"Don't you think it'll get confused, having multiple people pacing?"  
Neville shook his head.  
"Not if we both want the same thing, right?"  
Harry nodded.  
"So, shall we?"  
They both walked to the wall and began pacing.  
Harry thought about what he wanted. A room where they could learn to defend themselves. A place where they could safely train for the war that was to come. A place where they could gather their strength.  
Suddenly, a door appeared in the wall. Harry and Neville exchanged and look.  
"So, do you want to go first?" Neville asked.  
"Age before beauty." Harry replied.  
"I'm only a day older than you." Neville argued.  
"Technically, you are eighteen years older than me." Harry retorted.  
"Oh, why are we even debating this?" Neville said. "This is Hogwarts. What's the worst that could be behind that door?"  
Harry blinked.  
"Did you really just ask that question?" He asked. "After a three-headed dog on the third floor, a giant snake in a secret chamber far below the school, moving staircases, any number of trick steps..."  
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Neville interrupted.  
"Okay, on three." Harry said. "One..."  
"Two..." Neville continued.  
"Three." They both said before pushing open the door and walking in.  
He blinked. For a few seconds, he found himself disoriented. It felt as if he had been flung back in time, so that he was not sure if he was Harry, or if he was witnessing another memory of Mordred.  
He looked to Neville to see that he was experiencing a similar feeling. His eyes were wide, and his hands were shaking.  
The room was large, as large as the Great Hall. Candles lined the walls, brightly illuminating the entire area.  
They stood on a stone floor. There were three doors, one on each of the walls excluding the one behind them. And in the centre of the room...  
"Harry, is that..." Neville began, walking towards the centre of the room.  
"Yeah." Harry breathed, following the other man.  
They both approached the object in the centre of the room, and placed a hand on the great round table.  
"The roundtable." Neville said in amazement.  
"Where not one seat is greater than the other." Harry continued. "And all are equal."  
Neville closed his eyes. When he finally opened them, they were sparkling with unshed tears.  
"I can still remember when I first constructed the table." He began. "I was so young. I had dreamt of a world where everyone held equal importance, and we did not kill each other in the mad scramble for power."  
Harry placed a hand on the one Neville still had on the table.  
"That dream can still be reached." He said quietly. "We can reach it together."  
Neville looked up into his eyes.  
"Yes, I know."  
Harry patted him on the back.  
"Come on, let's go look at these other rooms."  
They walked to the door that was on the left of the room. On the other side was a large training-yard. They both stepped in and stared around, seeing several large weapon wracks. They seemed to be divided into two main groups, blunted training weapons and actual sharp tools for combat.  
"Errr, I think we should keep those away from everyone until we can be sure they can handle them." Harry said, gesturing to the sharp weapons.  
"Agreed." Neville replied.  
He sighed.  
"But I'm still not sure if they'll be able to learn in time. We had years to train, and they only have months."  
Harry nodded.  
"I know. Perhaps there could be a spell or something..."  
Neville nodded.  
"Perhaps. Though it seems a little dishonest to use shortcuts like that, but desperate times call for desperate measures I guess."  
Harry nodded.  
They continued to look around, finding a large ring in the far end of the training-yard.  
"A dueling ring." Neville said.  
"Spell training." Harry continued. "That's going to be weird, seeing magic and weapons training in the same place."  
Neville laughed.  
"I would have thought that happened all the time at Orkney."  
"Only when Father and Morgana got into an argument." Harry replied. "So basically every few weeks."  
"Who usually won?" Neville asked.  
Harry grinned.  
"Usually I would intervene and convince Morgana to stop. Turns out, even she wasn't immune to puppy-dog eyes."  
They both laughed. They then decided to explore the other rooms.  
The next room they discovered was a giant library. It was just as large as the actual Hogwarts library, or maybe even the library of Camelot. Hundreds of shelves as high as the ceiling were filled with books upon books.  
"Wo." Harry breathed. "Wait till Hermione sees this."  
"Or the Ravenclaws." Neville added.  
"We'll never see them again."  
Harry stepped further into the massive library and picked up one of the books.  
"Now this is what we should be learning." He said. "Not that rubbish Umbridge gave us."  
"Maybe we could disguise some of these books for the group to read during Defense Against the Dark Arts." Neville suggested.  
Harry nodded.  
"Yeah, but we'd have to find a way of making it so anyone who looked at either the cover or even the inside of the books only saw what we are supposed to be reading."  
"I'm sure you'll manage to find a way." Neville replied.  
They moved on to the last room. It was an almost exact replica of the hospital wing. Beds lined both walls, and there was a large cabinet on the back wall with jars full of medicinal herbs, potions, and other medical tools.  
"A hospital wing, great." Harry said. "Now if any of us get hurt, we can get healed easily."  
"Yeah, but who's going to heal us?" Neville asked.  
Harry frowned.  
"Maybe some of the members could learn healing." He suggested.  
Neville nodded.  
"Maybe some of the younger ones. Keep them away from the front lines, but still have them participate."  
Harry nodded. He would feel much more comfortable with the younger members, such as Dennis or Astoria, not being in the direct line of fire. It was safer if they were behind the battle lines, instead of being up front where most of the danger usually was.  
"But we'll still have to teach them to defend themselves." Harry continued. "Regardless of their roles, they will still be in a warzone, and we both know that a warzone is a very dangerous place, regardless of where you stand."  
Neville nodded.  
Suddenly, they heard footsteps approaching and the main door opening.  
"I think some people have arrived." Harry said.  
"Then let's go welcome them." Neville replied.

For the next half hour or so, people arrived in groups of two and three. Upon arriving, they had marveled at the large hall, before sitting down at the equally magnificent roundtable. Harry and Neville tried to get people to not sit in distinct house-groups. This for the most part worked, but unfortunately the Slytherins were still clumped together. When everyone was seated, Harry and Neville took seats on the side of the table furthest from the main door. Conscious of his discussion with Ron and Hermione the week before, he had been sure to sit next to them, while Luna and Draco sat on the other side of Neville.  
"So," Neville began.  
Instantly, everyone turned to him. Some were surprised that he was taking charge, instead of Harry.  
Neville cleared his throat and continued.  
"I am glad to see that all of you have safely found your way here. I know that all of you are eager to begin, but there are first some things we have to organise."  
"Like how are we supposed to learn how to fight in a room like this?" Zacharias Smith asked sarcastically.  
"Listen and you might find out." Ron retorted, before turning to Harry and Neville. "How are we going to learn how to fight in this room?"  
"We aren't." Harry replied.  
The entire table burst into mutters. Harry had to bang his fist on the table to call the room to order.  
"As we were saying," He continued. "We will not be training in this room. This is where we will meet and discuss how everyone is progressing, as well as strategies to combat Umbridge and the Ministry. They may now seem to be taking over the school, but I assure you, this is only the beginning. Soon, we may have to apply guerilla warfare, in order to resist them."  
Neville continued.  
"Some of you may have noticed there are doors leading out of this room. To the left as you come in is the training-yard. This is where we will be learning how to fight, with both magic and physical weapons."  
More mutters.  
"Wait, you mean muggle weapons? What good will they be against Umbridge, or You-Know-Who?"  
"That is the kind of thinking that we are relying on." Neville replied. "Umbridge, the Ministry, the Death-Eaters, they have all trained to fight against magical attacks. They would not expect a sword, or a spear, to come at them. With the right training, we will be able to dodge out of the way of any spell and be able to surprise them with steel."  
"They would not have prepared any defenses against such an attack." Harry added. "They would believe that such weapons stand no chance against magic, so they would underestimate anyone who came at them with such an attack."  
"And we can enchant the weapons," Neville continued. "So we can harness magic with them, just as we do with our wands."  
There were a few nods along with the mutter this time.  
"The room on the opposite end as you come in," Harry continued. "Is a library, equal to that of Hogwarts, if not larger. This is where we can study new spells that can help us in combat. Even from the brief glance I had earlier, I can tell that the knowledge held in those books is far greater than anything Hogwarts will teach you. Old spells, powerful spells, thousands of years old. Many of them would be considered dark..."  
"But isn't dink magic... Bad?" Hannah Abbott asked hesitantly.  
Harry shook his head.  
"Let me explain something. There is no such thing as light or dark magic. The type of spell has nothing to do with weather an action is good or evil. It is all in what the caster intends. Tell me, what would you consider a dark spell?"  
"T the unforgivables." Collen Creevey replied, shakily raising his hand.  
Harry winced. He and Nimue had created them to help others, and it disgusted him that they were now used for cruel means.  
"Yes, the unforgivables." He began calmly. "They have been used for truly horrible purposes in recent decades especially, but they can be used for good. The imperious, for example. While it is mostly used to control people's minds, and make them commit horrible acts they would not usually commit, it can also be used to prevent someone from committing a horrible act. Say if someone was about to throw themselves off of a building. This spell can be used to stop them."  
Some people nodded, obviously considering the idea.  
"The killing curse." He continued. "It has been used to murder countless people. Many of us lost family to this spell in the last war."  
He allowed a moment of silence while many of the people around the table bowed their heads in grief.  
"However, it can be used for good." He continued softly.  
"How can a spell designed specifically for killing be used for good?" Cho Chang demanded.  
"Sometimes, when people are injured, not even the best healers can help them." He said. "Sometimes, people are just too far gone and it's best to just... Put them out of their misery."  
The room was full of mutters again.  
"And the cruciartis curse." He continued.   
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Neville flinch at this. This was the curse he felt most guilty for, mainly because of how it had been used to torture Neville's parents into insanity.   
"It is a horrible curse." He began. "But sometimes we need to use such things in war times, for interrogations. While I despise such an idea, I do understand that war is not pretty, and we must do things we would otherwise hate in order to succeed. However, the curse can also be used to help heal those who's nerves have been damaged. It can bring feeling back into them, even if it is a very painful method."  
He looked around the table.  
"Now that I have explained how supposedly dark spells can be used for good, let me explain how something you would consider light be used for evil purposes."  
He took out his wand and a spare piece of parchment.  
"The levitation charm," He began, casting said spell on the parchment and levitating it a few inches above the table. "It is considered a relatively light spell, correct?"  
Everyone nodded.  
"Well, imagine this parchment is a person, and the edge of the table is a cliff." He continued.  
He clicked his wand and the parchment went flying off of the side of the table, onto the floor. Luna picked it up and handed it back to him.  
"Thank you." He said. "As you can see, this spell can be used to harm, as much as it can be used for good."  
He looked around the room at everyone present.  
"Light and dark, good and evil, they are merely concepts." He said. "The world is not divided into black and white. People you would consider good can do truly horrible things, while even people you may think of as cruel can commit acts of kindness."  
Neville continued.  
"If we are to succeed in this war, you need to accept that what you have been told, about light and dark, is a pure myth. You will also have to accept that you may have to commit acts that you would usually condemn."  
The entire room was silent. After a minute or two, Harry cleared his throat.  
"Anyway," He began. "To the right, there is a healing room. This is where we will heal after training, and where some of us will learn the healing arts."  
"Harry and I have discussed this," Neville continued. "And we have decided that it would be safer for all if the younger members were focused more on healing..."  
There were loud protests around the table, mostly from the younger students. Harry banged his fist on the table again.  
"I know, you want to fight." He said. "But it's bad enough that we, mere children, are the ones who have to be active in this war. We should not have to fight at all, but unfortunately the majority of the Wizarding World would rather hide with their heads in the sand and deny anything is happening. And the ones who are supposedly fighting against our enemies would rather wait for the apposing side to make the first move. So it's up to us to be proactive in this conflict."  
"However," Neville continued. "We will not put children as young as twelve in the direct line of attack."  
There were more protests around the table.  
"So we're supposed to just sit around while you go off fighting?" Astoria Greengrace demanded.  
Dennis Creevey nodded.  
"I want to help too."  
"We never said you won't be." Neville replied calmly. "There are many roles to be played in war, not just as fighters. We need tacticians, healers, roles that are just as important. You will still be helping, just as much as the rest, but this will hopefully ensure that you are safer."  
"No role in war is safe." Harry continued. "So you will still be learning how to defend yourselves, but you will also be focused on learning other skills."  
Lavender Brown raised her hand.  
"Errr, I know this sounds kind of cowardly and all," She began hesitantly. "But... Can we errr... Choose to take one of this other roles, if we don't want to be in the direct line of fire?"  
Marrietta Edgecumb nodded.  
"I would feel more comfortable as a healer, or even as a tactician." She admitted.  
A few more heads nodded.  
"Yes, of course." Neville said. "Not everyone has to be a warrior. If you do not feel comfortable being on the front lines, then I will not force you."  
"However," Harry continued. "You will still have to learn how to at least defend yourselves."  
There were nods around the table.  
"So," Hermione spoke up finally. "There is another matter to discuss."  
They all turned to her and the witch shuffled nervously.  
"We need to figure out what we will call ourselves." She continued. "This group will need a name, after all."  
Neville nodded.  
"Any suggestions?"  
"The Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina Johnson suggested.  
"The Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" Fred suggested.  
"Okay," Neville said calmly. "Maybe something a bit more subtle, that won't tell everyone what we are intended for. Remember, we need to be able to discuss this in public, without people figuring out what we're actually talking about."  
"The defense Association?" Cho Chang suggested. "We can call it the DA for short."  
Luna nodded.  
"That sounds okay, but I was thinking of something with a little more... Style."  
Most of the people at the table rolled their eyes, but Harry gestured for her to continue.  
"The Knights of Albion." She said. "Knights used to fight for justice, honor, and freedom, which is what we will be fighting for. Albion is what the isle of Britain used to be called, and while we are beginning with Hogwarts in the short-term, in the long-term we will be fighting for the freedom of Britain."  
She nodded at Cho.  
"But I do like the idea of an abbreviation. We could call it the KA."  
"Okay," Neville finally said. "Let us put it to a vote. All who want to go with "The Defence Association"?"  
Several hands rose, and Hermione wrote down the Talley on a piece of parchment.  
"All who want "The Knights of Albion"?" He continued.  
More hands rose and Hermione made a Talley. For about a minute she counted them, then she looked up at the table.  
"It was close." She began. "But the Knights of Albion won by a very thin margin."  
There were mutters around the room, but non protested.  
"So, now that that's out of the way," Harry began. "Do you have any questions?"  
"Yeah," Zacharias said. "I still don't see how muggle weapons will work against magic."  
Harry and Neville exchanged a look.  
"Shall we demonstrate?" Harry suggested.  
Neville shrugged and turned to the rest of the room.  
"What do you think? Would you like to see a demonstration?"  
The room filled with excited mutters, and everyone got to their feet. As Harry and Neville led the way into the training-yard, Hermione and Ron stopped him.  
"Harry, are you sure about this?" Hermione asked nervously. "I mean, you only used a sword once, right?"  
Harry chuckled.  
"Believe me, I know my way around a sword."  
"And what about Neville?" Ron asked.  
Harry could not help but smile.  
"You'll see."

Harry now stood, facing Neville in the dueling ring. The ring had a forcefield which would prevent any stray spells from hitting any of the audience. As Harry had more experience with magical combat, he would be the one using magic, while Neville was the one to hold a blunted sword. While Excalibur did hang, concealed by magic, at his hip, they both thought it wise not to reveal there magical legendary swords just yet.  
"Alright, are you both ready?" Luna asked from her place on the edge of the ring.  
They both nodded.  
"Alright, on the count of three." She continued. "One... Two... Three!"  
Harry instantly began to mercilessly fire spells at Neville. The man managed to role out of the way of the first wave.  
"Easy." He said.  
"Do you seriously think the Ministry, or the Death-Eaters will start off slow?" Harry retorted, firing off another barrage of hexes.  
They began circling each other, Neville somehow managing to dodge each spell. With every dodged wave, Neville inched closer to him. Harry had to try to keep him at a distance, without being back into a corner. He sent a more forceful wave, causing Neville to have to back up. Harry cent a new string of jinxes, but Neville ducked out of the way and... Oh, how clever.  
The spells rebounded off of the forcefield and Harry was suddenly the one ducking for cover. After the stream of spells had passed overhead, he stood back up... Only to meet the blade of a blunted sword at his throat.  
"You cheated." He said, panting.  
Neville grinned.  
"I used the environment to my advantage." He retorted.  
Harry chuckled.  
"Okay, I yield."  
Neville lowered the sword and they turned to face the slack-jawed expressions of the audience. They walked to the edge of the ring, and the forcefield was deactivated.  
"Can anyone explain what Neville did?" Harry asked.  
"He used the forcefield to bounce your spells right back at you?" George said.  
"And he used the distraction to get in close to you." Dafne Greengrace added.  
Harry nodded.  
"He used the environment to his advantage. While there may not be a helpful forcefield in an actual battle, it is still good to know how to use your environment. Trees, rocks, rivers, unstable ground, they can all be used against an opponent."  
"And as you saw," Neville continued. "I was able to dodge out of the way of Harry's spells. While this does require stamina, it is a useful method of dealing with those who rely on magic. While they are good at long-distance fighting, they would not be as skilled in close-quarter combat."  
"We will be teaching you how to fight with such weapons." Harry continued. "First, we must see who is better suited to what. While we do want you to learn to use multiple weapons, your primary weapon should be one best suited for your build. Weight, height and strength can have a large impact on the kind of weapon you wield."  
"Some are better suited to swords, some to battle axes, while others prefer spears. Some may even prefer daggers."  
"And if you still do not feel comfortable with close-quarters," Harry continued. "You can learn archery, though, it would still be a good idea for you to learn to use daggers or short-swords, for when you run out of arrows."

For the rest of the meeting, Harry and Neville assessed everyone, trying to determine what kind of weapon best suited them. Harry was surprised to discover that Fred and George felt comfortable with battle-axes. He had assumed that, due to there prankster nature, they would prefer something a little more subtle. However, it made sense after he considered that they must have become quite strong, due to their years as beaters on the quidditch team.  
He was not surprised to see that the small and speedy Collen chose a pair of twin daggers. He was just thankful that he and Neville had been careful to direct everyone to the blunted weapons wrack, because the boy couldn't seem to stand still.  
The most surprising, and yet somehow glaringly obvious, pairing of fighter and weapon, was of course Luna.  
"Errr, Luna?" Harry asked hesitantly.  
Luna looked up at him from her weapon.  
"Yes?" She asked calmly.  
"Are you errr... Okay, with that?" He asked.  
Luna raised an eyebrow.  
"Yes, why?" She asked.  
"It's just..." He began. "I've never seen you with a weapon other than magic."  
Luna scoffed.  
"Back then, women were not allowed to hold weapons, remember?"  
"Yeah, of course." He said. "It's just..."  
"What, don't you think I can handle this?" She asked.  
"No, it's not that... It's just..."  
He eyed the weapon skeptically.  
"I wouldn't have imagined you with a weapon so errrr... You know what, I could actually see you with such a strange weapon."  
Luna smirked and balance the weapon in her hands. It looked like two swords, with slightly curved blades, had been fused together. The thing was so bizarre, that it somehow made sense, in a strange sort of way.  
Luna raised the weapon above her head as if it were a quarterstaff, and began twirling it. Harry stepped back, as one of the blades almost cut across his face.  
"Oh, sorry." Luna said, before she began spinning the weapon and tossing it from hand to hand.  
Then, she twisted something in the handhold, and the weapon split into two swords. Luna began to twirl these, before tossing them into the air. What was most likely supposed to be an impressive finish was ruined when she only managed to catch one sword, and the other fell to the ground.  
"Oh, oops." She said, chuckling. "Guess I need to work on that."  
"It's okay." Harry said, bending down to pick up the fallen blade. "That's what we're here for."  
He handed her back the sword, and she rewarded him with a kiss.

Finally, after checking the time, Harry and Neville decided that it was time to end the meeting. They gathered everyone back into the main room.  
"Well, it's getting late." Harry began. "I feel we have done a good job tonight. Please leave for your common-rooms in twos and threes, and you will be informed when the next meeting shall take place."  
"Thank you all for coming." Neville added. "I feel that, if we work hard and in cooperation, then we will succeed. It may be hard at times, but nothing worth doing is easy."  
And with that, they dismissed the meeting.

After everyone had finally left, Harry and Neville were the only ones left in the room. Neville sighed in obvious relief and slumped on the roundtable.  
"That was intense." He said.  
Harry nodded.  
"I think you did great." He said.  
"We both did." Neville replied, smiling.  
They both just stood in silence for a long time.  
"So, shall we go?" Harry suggested.  
Neville nodded.  
"Come on, let's go."  
Neville stood and they both left the room, tired, but excited for the future.


	22. A true leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Harry and Neville demonstrate their leadership skills in different ways.

Chapter 22:

For the next few weeks, Neville and Harry worked tirelessly to train the KA. While at first, Harry was the default leader, Neville gradually began to become a more prominent leader. Soon, people began to see him as the leader of their group, instead of him. Harry did not mind. He was glad to see the man Neville had once been, the leader he had once been, shine through. Part of being a good leader was having people who believed in you. While only a few months ago, Neville had been seen as little more than a shy, borderline Squibb, he was now being seen with more respect by the members of the KA.  
Harry didn't even mind that it was taking away from his own status as leader. After all, he still thought that Neville was a better ruler than he would ever be.  
And in any case, the KA would only be a small part of their forces. They still had many more allies to gather. And while it wasn't advisable to have a divided army, both he and Neville believed there would not be much conflict, due to them being on such good terms. And if there were arguments between the different legions, then they could easily resolve them.

The first of the allies for Harry to recruit were the house-elves. After much discussion, they had decided that it would be better for Harry to be the one to negotiate with the other races. The main reason for this was the legend Dobby had told them, concerning Harry being some kind of "Promised One" for the magical beings of Britain.  
Before Harry did any recruiting, however, he wished to find out how exactly the house-elves became practically enslaved to the wizards. Hence why he was currently sitting in an empty classroom with Dobby, hoping the house-elf knew some kind of history concerning his race.  
"So, do you know anything?" He asked. "About why House-elves must serve wizards?"  
Dobby nodded, uncharacteristically serious.  
"Yes, Dobby knows. All house-elves are told the story when they are young."  
"Could you please tell me?" He requested.  
Dobby nodded again.  
"Dobby would be happy to tell Harry Potter anything."  
The house-elf began his tale.  
"Long, long ago, the people from the realm of magic, the land of forever youth, walked freely between their world and the world of the humans. One day, a being from the magic world came to this one, but was then attack by very, very bad wizards, who wanted to take the being's power for themselves. The being was strong, but these wizards knew how to fight them. Not only did they use their magic, but weapons of iron. Soon, the being was dying, and the wizards had stolen almost all of their magic.  
But then, another wizard found the dying creature. The wizard took pity and used his own magic to heal the being. But unfortunately, the being could not live without magic. And after they were attacked, and their magic was stolen, they lost their connection to the magic realm. So, the wizard put some of his own magic into the being. And they were healed, but they were also bound to the wizard.  
The wizard took the being home, and they came to an agreement. The being would repay the wizard by assisting him in household tasks, and the wizard would provide the being with the magic they needed to live. Part of the agreement was that the wizard would treat the being fairly.  
It was this being, who became the first house-elf. And, as this first house-elf was bound to the wizard, all of their descendants would be bound to wizardkind. And if they were not, they would slowly begin to lose their magic and eventually die.  
At first, the wizards treated the house-elves fairly. But, soon the wizards began to treat the house-elves worse and worse, until the house-elves were treated like slaves. They were even denied clothes, to the point that the wizards made it so the only way for a house-elf to be freed would be for the wizard to give the house-elf clothes.  
But there was stibl hope, for it was said the Great King, the Promised One, would rise again and free the house-elves, along with all other races, from the cruelty of the wizards."  
Harry looked at Dobby as the house-elf fell silent.  
"Dobby," He said slowly. "That's... That's just... Well, that's messed up."  
Dobby nodded.  
"Yes." The house-elf replied mournfully. Then, his ears pricked up. "But Dobby's happy now, because the great Harry Potter is the Promised One, and he will free all of the house-elves and give them back the magic that was stolen."  
"Dobby, dobby, please calm down." Harry said, trying to calm the house-elf. "I don't know about this whole Promised One thing, but I do know that I will do my best to free the house-elves, or at least make things better."  
Dobby nodded excitedly.  
"Dobby knows. Harry Potter can do it. He is brave, and kind, and..."  
"Okay, okay." Harry interrupted, raising a hand. "But Dobby, one thing bugs me."  
"What is wrong Harry Potter?"  
Harry sucked in a breath.  
"You said that, if a house-elf was free, then they would slowly lose their magic and die."  
Dobby nodded.  
"But, when I tricked Malfoy into freeing you, you seemed happy about it."  
"That is because Dobby was happy." Dobby replied.  
"But then, it took you ages to find a knew home." Harry continued. "And you could have been accepted, but you didn't because you were demanding pay."  
Dobby nodded.  
"Because Dobby did not want to be treated like he was with his old bad masters."  
"But," Harry continued. "If your life was on the line... Dobby, what would have happened if you had never found anyone to take you in?"  
"Then Dobby would have died." Dobby replied simply.  
Harry felt a twinge in his heart when he heard this. It was hard for him to imagine Dobby dying and being alright with it.  
"Why?" He asked.  
Dobby clenched his fists.  
"Because Dobby would rather die than be treated badly by anyone ever again."  
"Oh, Dobby."  
Harry could not help himself. He lent forward and wrapped his arms around the house-elf.  
"What is Harry Potter doing?" Dobby asked, his voice muffled due to his face being berried in Harry's chest.  
"I'm hugging you, you loveable idiot." He said.  
"But why?"  
"Because you deserve it." Harry replied. "You, and all the house-elves, deserve a thousand hugs and any form of love and comfort. I knew that the Malfoys were bad, but I didn't think it would make you prefer death."  
"A lot of house-elves are treated just as badly as Dobby was."  
"Then I'm going to do my best to free you all, even if it kills me, promised one or not."  
He could feel some dampness on his chest.  
"Harry Potter is truly the Promised One, for only the Promised could be so kind, and brave and..."  
After that, Dobby's words became inaudible. Harry began stroking his back.  
"Hey, what are friends for?"  
This only caused Dobby's sobs to intensify.  
"Harry... Potter... Considers Dobby a friend...!"  
"Of course I do." Harry said gently. "Dobby, you're a good person. When you found out something was going to happen at Hogwarts, you did not hesitate in trying to protect me. Even if you almost killed me in the process, I still appreciate the gesture."  
He continued to try to calm the house-elf down.  
"Everyone deserves a friend Dobby. I think you're a pretty could one."  
They sat like that for a long time, Harry comforting Dobby. And, eventually, he was able to calm his house-elf friend down. Dobby slipped out of Harry's arms, his eyes red rimmed and puffy from the crying. Though, he was smiling widely, and there was an unbridled joy in those green orbs.  
"So," Harry began. "You ready to spread the word to the rest of the house-elves?"

It was late at night when Harry snuck into the kitchens. Dobby had said he would try to get all of the house-elves in one spot.  
He entered the kitchen to see over a hundred house-elves, all looking at him.  
He coughed awkwardly.  
"So." He began.  
That was all he managed to get out before they all began clambering around, asking him how they could serve, if he needed any food, what he wanted them to do.  
"Okay, okay, please can I have some silence!" He yelled over the din.  
Instantly, the entire room fell silent.  
"Thanks." He said.  
He began walking to the other side of the room. The house-elves parted before him. When he reached the other side of the room, he saw Dobby, standing next to a chair that the house-elf had conjured.  
"Thanks." He whispered.  
Dobby only nodded.  
Harry turned and sat in the chair. He could not help but feel it was like some sort of throne, in front of all these diminutive figures.  
Well, it might as well be a throne, considering that he intended to be a king.  
He cleared his throat.  
"Are these all of the Hogwarts house-elves?" He asked  
They all nodded.  
"Okay." He began. "Please, take a seat..."  
The house-elves began to sit on the cold hard floor, but Harry was having known of it. He waved his wand and conjured several rows of comfortable stalls.  
"Now take a seat." He said.  
The house-elves stared at the stools warily, unsure of what to do.  
"Please." Harry continued. "I want to to all be comfortable."  
This much hesitation, the house-elves sat on the stools.  
Harry cleared his throat again. He wished that Neville was there. After all, they were both supposed to be kings. But Neville had thought it best, as, from what Dobby had told them, the house-elves or any magical creature for that matter did not think very highly of Arthur Pendragon.  
So Harry was stuck here, alone. Well, except for Dobby. He was at least thankful for his friend.  
"Now, I have recently been made aware of some things." He began. "Apparently, house-elves are bound to wizards and witches, not just in magic but in life. The wizards have held this power over you for too long..."  
"But sir, we are happy as we are." One voice squeaked up from the crowd.  
Many small heads nodded.  
"It's a house-elve's lot in life." Another voice said.  
"But it doesn't have to be." Harry argued. "How many of you have heard of, or experienced, poor treatment from people who were supposed to treat you fairly?"  
Many shaking hands rose into the air.  
"You don't have to live like this." Harry continued. "You are living beings, just like everyone else. You deserve the right to be free, the right to live, the right to magic, the right to ware clothes and be paid for your hard work, just like everyone else."  
There were many mutters.  
"I know, that many of you are comfortable." He said. "That many of you have accepted this as your lot in life. But it doesn't have to be. It should not be. You should be free."  
He looked around, meeting the eyes of every single last house-elf.  
"My allies and I wish to help you, along with many others, to gain the equality you deserve."  
"How can you do this?" A house-elf squeaked. "What power do you have?"  
"Dobby thinks that Harry Potter should show them the sword." Dobby whispered to him.  
Harry pulled back his cloak and temporarily removed the camouflage from Caliburn.  
Gasps echoed throughout the room. For a second, Harry was concerned at all the wide eyes and silent stares. Then, every single last house-elf fell to their knees.  
"The Promised One!"  
"He has come!"  
"We shall be free!"  
"We shall have our stolen magic back!"  
"Okay, okay!" Harry said loudly, grabbing all of their attention. "Please, stand up. You don't have to knee like that."  
They all got back to their stools, though they were still all staring at him as if he were some kind of benevolent god.  
"Right, well," He continued. "I and my allies are planning to bring equality to magical Britain..."  
"How may we help the Promised One." A house-elf squeaked.  
Harry sighed. Great, just what he needed, an army of Dobbys.  
"Please, I don't want to be treated like some prophesied savour." He began. "I only wish to lead you and the rest of the magical world into a new age."  
"And we will stand behind you!"  
The rest nodded.  
"Thank you." He began. "It won't be easy. Many may not survive this war."  
He looked at them all.  
"But everyone who sacrificed for the good of the future will not be forgotten. We will stand, and we will fight, for our children and our children's children and all other generations to come. But we cannot do it alone. We must stand as one, if we have any chance of success."  
Suddenly, Dobby stood up from the stool that had been beside Harry's this entire time.  
"Hale Harry Potter!" He yelled.  
Everyone echoed him.  
"Hale Harry Pott!"  
Another house-elf yelled.  
"Hale, the king of freedom!"  
Again, they echoed. And then, came a tightly which he had heard applied to Neville, but never to him. Looks like he was really the house-elf equivalent of King Arthur.  
"Hale, the Once and Future King!"

After several minutes of the house-elves yelling in joy, praising him and promising their loyalty to him, they actually began to have a miniature party with leftover food and sweets. Thankfully, with the help of some of the older house-elves, he was able to calm them down and remind them that, for now, they needed to continue to work for Hogwarts, so no one would find out about their plans.  
When he was finally out of the kitchens, he sighed and turned to Dobby.  
"Well, that was easy." He said.  
"Dobby thinks that Harry Potter did great." Dobby said, smiling.  
Harry fingered the paper crown that one of the house-elf children made him. It was made out of scrap piece, and held together by magic. He took it off.  
"I'm going to keep this somewhere safe." He said. "I don't want anyone to see me with a crown on yet, but it's still a nice gesture and I don't want to offend anyone."  
"Oh, Dobby doesn't think that Harry Potter could offend anyone." Dobby replied. "At least not any of the house-elves."  
Harry chuckled.  
"Thanks."  
They continued to walk down the corridor.  
"What will Harry Potter do now?" Dobby asked.  
"Well," Harry began. "Neville and I are still training the KA. We've found some spells to help spread along some of the learning, but it will still take months before most of us are ready."  
Dobby nodded.  
"Some of the house-elves can help."  
Harry blinked.  
"House-elves know how to fight?"  
"We can learn." Dobby replied.  
Harry nodded.  
"Do any of the house-elves know how to do some healing tricks?"  
Dobby nodded.  
"Yes, many of us."  
Harry nodded.  
"Do you think some of them could help teach some of the KA? It would be very helpful."  
Dobby nodded.  
"Of course. We all will be willing to help in any way."  
"Right." Harry said.   
He looked down at his friend.  
"Dobby, I have a very important job for you."  
Dobby's ears perked up.  
"Yes, Dobby will do anything for the great Harry Potter sir."  
"Good." Harry continued. "Dobby, this is a very big job. It's really important, so I'm trusting you with it."  
He sucked in a breath.  
"I want you, to be my representative among the house-elves."  
Dobby froze, his eyes as wide as tennis balls. Then, he began to jump up and down like a kid on a sugar high.  
"Oh, Dobby is so honored. The great Harry Potter has given Dobby a big job, and Dobby will do his best to help Harry Potter."  
"Okay, okay, please calm down." Harry said.  
The house-elf instantly calmed down.  
"As I was saying," He continued. "I will need to to monitor all that happens with the house-elves, how things are progressing, if they have any problems, if there are any who show sines of hesitation in our plans, stuff like that. And I will need you to report it to me. You will also act as my voice among them, and you will act my place if I am unable to be there. Do you understand?"  
Dobby nodded.  
"Dobby understands, and he will do everything that Harry Potter wishes him to do."  
Harry smiled.  
"Thank you."  
"As Harry Potter said, what are friends for?"  
Harry chuckled.  
"Yeah, thanks."  
"So, what else is Harry Potter going to do?" Dobby asked.  
Harry sucked in a breath.  
"Well, as I said, we are going to try to gain equality for all races. This means I'm going to go and try to make alliances with other magical creatures, like Goblins, centaurs and Werewolves."  
Dobby nodded.  
"Dobby thinks that the Goblins and Centaurs will be easier than Harry Potter thinks. Many magical creatures, not just house-elves, no the tale of the Promised One."  
Harry sighed.   
"I hope you're right Dobby. I hope you're right."

He was watching the training-yard. Half of the fighters were practicing with weapons, the others with magic. It was currently his turn to watch the weapon training. While he did mostly focus on the magical training, he and Neville liked to alternate, so that they too, could enhance some of the areas which they were less skilled in.  
He was watching the archery range, when suddenly, there was a commotion from the dueling section. They all turned to see that Ernie McMillan had gotten into an argument with Blaise Zabini. He went to intervene, but before he could, Neville stepped forward.  
"Alright, what's going on?" He asked in a loud, clear voice.  
The two arguing boys turned to him.  
"He cheated." Ernie accused Blaise.  
"I did not." Blaise retorted.  
"Alright, what happened?" Neville asked.  
"We were in the middle of practicing the shield charm, like you and Harry told us to." Ernie began.  
"No, if I remember correctly, they said to practice magical shielding, not just the shield charm." Blaise retorted.  
Neville somehow managed to remain calm.  
"So, I am guessing that Blaise did something other than the shield charm?"  
Ernie nodded.  
"He threw up a stone wall."  
"Because it's more practical." Blaise retorted. "The shield charm takes energy to sustain. Throwing up a stone wall only takes a bit of energy to conjure, then it takes nothing to sustain."  
Before Ernie could retort, Neville interrupted.  
"Okay, Blaise, the reason why we have people learning the shield charm is because it's basic and easy to cast. But Ernie, there are other alternative, more advance ways of blocking spells. You have to remember that the shield charm only blocks minor to moderate jinxes and hexes."  
Both boys nodded.  
"Now, can we please have no more arguments, just because some people have alternative was of shielding."  
They both nodded again.  
Harry smiled and walked up to Neville.  
"Well done with defusing the argument." He whispered.  
Neville shrugged.  
"It was easy, really."  
Harry nodded.

Harry stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, wondering if this was really a good idea. From what he had both heard and observed, the centaurs were a proud race. They would be less willing to swear their loyalty to a human. However, he did have hope that maybe, possibly, if what Dobby had said was true, that perhaps his supposed status as "The Promised One", would help persuade them.  
He had of course, gone to the only centaur he was on somewhat good terms with, and ask him if the centaurs had a similar tale to the house-elves. Thankfully, his contact had informed him that it was so.  
From what he could remember, the centaurs took prophecies very seriously. They were always looking to the stars to divine the future. They trusted what the stars said, more than almost anything else.  
He was hoping to use this to his advantage.  
Finally, his guide to the centaur camp appeared. He looked up to see the centaur who had saved him during his first year, when the teachers had thought it would be a good idea to send four first-years into the forbidden forest at night.  
"Hi, Firenze." He said, smiling slightly.  
The centaur nodded.  
"It is good to see you again Harry Potter. Or would you rather I call you by your original name, now that you finally remember."  
"Harry's just fine." Harry replied.  
Firenze nodded.  
"So, are they ready?" He asked.  
Firenze nodded.  
"Many have been skeptical, but still more remember that your coming has long been foretold."  
Firenze began to lead him deep into the forest.  
"So, how did you know about my past?" He asked.  
"I have known since the first time I saw you." Firenze replied. "We all did, even if you could not remember."  
"How?" Harry asked.  
Firenze stared at him.  
"It is in your soul. Though you ware a different face, the markings of Mordred Ap Arthur are still there."  
Harry shuddered. Centaurs could honestly be as creepy as... Well, as Luna. The only difference was that he was used to Luna, not so much to the centaurs.  
"And what do your people say about Mordred Ap Arthur?" He asked.  
Firenze's eyes flicked up to where the night sky was just visible from beyond the canopy of trees.  
"They call him, or rather you, the Fallen One. They say that, long ago, the Fallen One tried to free this land from the Shadowed One and his Puppet King, but died in the his purpose, leaving the land in only more ruin."  
Harry bowed his head.  
"I never meant for it to go so far." He muttered.  
Firenze continued.  
"But it is said that he shall rise again, cut the strings of the Puppet King, and fulfill what he had set out to do so long ago."  
Firenze stared at him.  
"Long as the stars told of your coming." He said. "And long have many of my kind waited for you."  
Harry pursed his lips.  
"And how likely are they to follow me;"  
Firenze shook his head.  
"Though the stars have spoke much of you, my people have long been discriminated against by the humans. Many may be less willing to follow a wizard, despite what the stars may say."  
Harry nodded.  
"I suspected as much."  
"Do you have a plan?" Firenze asked.  
Harry grinned.  
"Of course I do." He replied.  
They then emerged into a large clearing. Harry looked around. There were so many centaurs, more than he had thought. And they were all doing various tasks, traveling between the makeshift dwellings. They did not seem to have noticed him and Firenze yet.  
"Err, Firenze?" He asked hesitantly.  
"Follow me." Firenze said. "I will take you to Magorian, our chieftain, where he awaits with our elders."  
He led Harry through the encampment, the centaurs parting at their approach. As they passed the centaurs stopped whatever they were doing to stare, but resumed their tasks once they had passed. Harry noted several things. Firstly, that none of them seemed to ware clothes, save for some jewelry which looked as if they were made from either beads or bone. Even the women were undressed. Harry managed to avert his eyes from their exposed chests, mostly because he wanted to be polite, but also because he thought that Luna would not appreciate it.  
This seemed to at least earn him some points with the female centaurs, as they did not seem to stare at him with as much distrust after they noticed where his eyes were not traveling.  
Another thing was that, while the adults seemed to eye him with distrust at best and contempt at the worst, the children gazed at him in wonder. They most likely had never seen a human. They muttered amongst themselves. He waved at them, trying to appear friendly. They smiled and waved back, but their parents did not seem to approve of this.  
Finally, they reached the center of the clearing, where several Centaurs waited.  
Magorian had the body of a chestnut, with black hair. He was also glaring at Harry, although with the rest of the gathered centaurs. Harry bowed to them respectfully.  
"Thank you, for agreeing to meet with me." He began.  
A few of the elders snorted, but did not say anything.  
"I am sure you are all curious as to why I have made such a request of you." He continued.  
"We know who you are, though you where a different face, Mordred Ap Arthur." Magorian spoke.  
Harry cleared his throat.  
"With all due respect, I would prefer to be known as Harry Potter, the name which I am known by in this life. I have only very recently remembered my past, and I am still... Coming to terms, with certain things that I had done as Mordred Ap Arthur."  
Magorian nodded.  
"Yes, your soul is tarnished. Your hands are stained with the blood of your father, the puppet King."  
Harry cleared his throat again.  
"Yes, well, as I was saying..."  
"We know why you have come." Magorian interrupted. "Long have the stars and the planets foretold of your coming. And now they say that war is on the horizon."  
Harry nodded.  
"Yes, a war which began long ago. Not the war of Mordred and Arthur, but of Morgana and Merlin. Both have been reborn, and both are just as powerful as they once were. Though I suspect you already know this."  
Magorian nodded.  
"Yes, the Dark One whom disguises himself as light has long resided in the castle, and the Mad Queen has just returned from being little more than a specter."  
"The heavens have told you this?" Harry asked.  
Magorian snorted.  
"Of course." He said. "And they have told us that you and the Puppet King wish to fight them."  
"And succeed." Harry added. "But that is not all. We wish to reshape magical Britain, free the land from corruption and suppression of the Ministry."  
"And you wish for us to fight for you." Magorian snorted.  
Harry shook his head.  
"No, I wish for you to fight with us, not for us."  
This court the attention of the elders, along with some of the surrounding centaurs.  
"Long have you been suppressed, discriminated against, by those who control the governing body, along with the humans of magical Britain as a whole." He said loudly and clearly, drawing a crowd. This was good. He wanted them to hear him.  
"You have been treated as lesser beings, called foul names like Halfbreeds..."  
This elicited several loud snorts and many stamped hooves.  
"You have been forced to live in small areas, in the one general place, instead of living like the free nomads you were born to be." He continued. "I highly doubt you chose to live in this forest."  
There were many snorts of agreement from the crowd.  
"Believe me, I know how this feels."  
"How could you possibly know this human." One centaur demanded.  
"I have experienced such discrimination in both of my lives." Harry replied. "When I was Mordred, I lived in a time when you could be killed for practicing magic which had been decreed dangerous. Each day I feared being discovered and executed for my practices. I witnessed my lover being murdered by her own mentor, all because she dared explore magics which should not have been forbidden."  
He sucked in a breath, trying not to cry at the memory of Nimue's death.  
"In this life," He continued. "I was raised by non-magical relatives. Non-magical relatives who hated me, all for having magic. A fact which I did not know until I was eleven."  
He sucked in a breath.  
"I have been beaten, starved, locked away in a dark, cold cupboard, made to do every single last chore as if I were a slave. And if anything was done with the slightest error, I was punished severely."  
He looked around at the now large crowd.  
"All this, for being who I am." He said quietly, though he could still be heard clearly throughout the entire audience.  
He then threw back his cloak and drew Caliburn. Many of the centaurs flitched, some reaching for bows, but a shake from Magorian's head stopped them.  
Harry crossed the sword in front of him, and placed his hand over the flat of the blade.  
"We may not be the same species, but that does not mean we do not fight for the same thing."  
He looked into each and everyone of their eyes.  
"I, Harry James Potter, who was once Mordred Ap Arthur, Ap Lot, do hereby swear on the blade of this sword, and on my magic, and on the magic which flows through this land and all of her beings, that I will fight for the freedom of all races. I will fight for a better tomorrow, no matter the cost."  
He looked around.  
"But I cannot do it alone. I need your help, all of you. I am not asking for you to serve me, as if I were your leader. I ask that you fight with me, as equals. If you do this, well, I cannot ensure that we will succeed, but I can ensure that if we do succeed, then your voices will be heard. You will be free to go wherever you wish. You will no longer be treated as if you were lesser beings."  
He finished, and silence fell upon the entire clearing. Magorian spoke quietly with the elders. Then, he turned to Harry.  
"We shall discuss this further." He simply said.  
Harry bowed again.  
"Thank you, for your time." He said before rising.  
He turned and Firenze led him through the crowd. When they left the clearing, Harry let out a breath he had not known he had been holding.  
"Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." He began. "At least no one tried to kill me."  
"I believe you did well." Firenze said. "You have proven to them that you have what it takes."  
"What it takes to do what?" Harry asked.  
"To be a king." Firenze replied simply.  
Harry shook his head.  
"I am no king." He said. "I do not want to rule over them."  
"No." Firenze replied. "You wish to be their equal. But that is what a true leader is. A true leader accepts that they are equal to their people. Their people serve them by given them their loyalty, and in exchange the leader serves the people by ensure their safety and wellbeing."  
Harry thought over this for a long time.  
"You know, those are some very wise words Firenze." He commented. "I wish that more world leaders could understand what you have just told me. I'm sure there would be far fewer problems in the world."  
Firenze nodded with a smile.  
"And if only they were as wise and as accepting as you."

A few days later, Harry received a message from the centaurs. They agreed to become allies, and to assist in any way they could. Harry smiled. He had been afraid that they would not accept his proposal, so it was a relief to see that they were willing to help.  
While the house-elves were useful in their own way, and the KA were slowly improving, it was still good to have professional warriors on their side. The centaurs were a formidable race, both with the bow and with the spear.  
But they were also skilled healers, which would also be useful.  
Things were coming together nicely.

Harry was in the main war-room, going over maps of Hogwarts. None of them were the marauder's map. He wished to keep such an artifact a secret for the moment. The less people who knew about the magical map that could show them the entire castle, the better. And in any case, the map really only showed a massive overview of Hogwarts along with most of the grounds.  
The maps which he was currently going over with Neville, Draco and some of the tacticians, had a smaller range but showed more detail concerning the layout of the areas they covered. The Room Of Requirement had provided these, of course.  
They were just discussing where the wards of the school ended, and what points may be less defended, when they heard a loud gasp. It had come from the healing room.  
Harry and Neville jumped up to investigate. They both headed towards the healing room, Neville in front. Once they entered, they saw Lavender was looking over one of the dummy patients the room provided for training purposes, because they weren't about to seriously injure one of their own just so the healers could learn how to repair serious wounds.  
The one Lavender was looking over was covered in blood, with several wounds meant to resemble someone hit by a large number of cutting curses.  
Lavender herself was pale, and obviously in shock.  
Harry was about to intervene, but Neville beat him to it.  
"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked gently, slowly the Lavender.  
"It's... Nothing..." Lavender said shakily.  
"Doesn't look like nothing." Neville replied soothingly, reaching her.  
Lavender shook her head.  
"I'm sorry. It's just... I've never seen so much blood."  
Neville frowned.  
"If the sight of blood disturbs you so much, then perhaps being a healer isn't the right job for you. I'm sure we can find..."  
Lavender shook her head.  
"No, no, it's okay." She said. "I can... Learn to manage it."  
"Are you sure?" Neville asked.  
Lavender squared her shoulders.  
"Yes." She said firmly. "I want to help. I know I'm not a great fighter, I hate violence. But I do want to help people. This..."  
She gestured at the fake body.  
"... Is something I just have to learn to handle. I can do it."  
Neville put a hand on her shoulder.  
"Okay, if you're sure."  
Lavender nodded.  
"I'm sure." She said.  
Neville nodded.  
"But if you ever feel uncomfortable or there are any other issues, my ear's always open."  
Lavender smiled.  
"Thanks."  
Neville left Lavender to her training, and he walked back to Harry.  
"Well handled." He said.  
Neville only shrugged.  
"I was only trying to help her." He said.  
Harry nodded.  
"You're really becoming a good leader." He said. "Or, more rather, you are still a good leader, just as you were back then."  
Neville shrugged.  
"I could say the same about you." He said. "You've already got us so many allies."  
Harry shrugged.  
"And from what I can see, you're doing a good job with the KA."  
They both chuckled.  
"We make a great team." Neville said.  
Harry smiled.  
"Yeah, a really great team."


End file.
